


Private Lives

by ElizabethLucy



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018), Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018) RPF
Genre: Canon, F/M, Lupercalia, this one is going to HURT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-03-10 03:03:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18929992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethLucy/pseuds/ElizabethLucy
Summary: From Part II of CAOS, canon events and characters. This was previously part of Hellsend. I’ve migrated them here into their own proper story, instead of one-shots. Updates will be here.





	1. Lupercalia

Faustus plays with her hair as she’s laying beside him, “I’m pleased to be in these woods with you again, Zelda. Though it violates the terms you set. That we keep our relations professional.”

“It is the Lupercalia. One night of carnality won’t kill us.”

“No, I shouldn’t think it would.” Faustus leans in to kiss her, and she submits. This had been part of the plan, Lupercalia and the extra basket of supplies. She remained firm in that she wanted their relationship named, not from silly schoolgirl standpoint, but she wanted Faustus to realize just how important she was to him. As much as she participated in it, and received satisfaction from whatever they were, she would not be used. Sometimes men needed to be reminded of who was in charge.

Back in his office, days prior, the second she had pulled her hand away from his on the game board, she knew she would win.

They played games, many at the same time. Years of these little games between them. Who could go for longer without seeking the other one out? Who would beg first? Who would make the other scream their name in the throes of passion? Who would bite and make the other bleed more? These were carnal games, and they had always been fun. But there was also the long game, the one they had both played at for so long.

She remembers Faustus meeting her eyes finally at her Dark Baptism, anxious to take her virginity then and there as she finished signing The Book of the Beast. He had signed his name the year prior, she had been witness, and he had quickly divested himself of his virginity but not with her, naturally. She had another year. But she had wanted nothing more than him in between her legs as she signed but she held out, the game already in motion.

She had not stripped him of his virginity, and therefore, she would not let him strip hers. It was as simple and as calculated as that. She would become an expert at making him want her, he had clearly already done the same. Her want for him made her steadfast, and angry. She wanted him to feel like he needed her. There would be no truce.

She knows she gives in a bit with her plan for Lupercalia in the woods. It’s not a full win. Who are they if not devout? Who are they if they don’t celebrate Lupercalia? Especially since she finally let him between her legs all those years ago on her first Lupercalia at the Academy. After months of bedding everyone but him. After months of practicing the art of seduction. Meeting him halfway and giving in a bit now, at this Lupercalia, reminds her of their first together, and she knows Faustus remembers too.

As a wolf howls in the distance and they pull away, she’s furious at the interruption. Less for the students sake, and more for hers. She knows the students will up and leave, the night of abstinence, The Courting, was always harder than they thought with their tempting partner next to them.

But for Zelda it’s all part of the game. Faustus makes a motion to leave, to get up. She pulls at his jacket, “Are we Witches or aren’t we?”

Faustus needs little swaying, he turns to her once more, a win. He’s always been a staunch traditionalist, and on a high holiday like this, he’s loathe to leave. Especially with Zelda looking the way she does, and she’s still fully dressed. He has yet to see what lies underneath.

He motions towards the basket of supplies, “Shall we?” He unloads the items. He hasn’t participated in Lupercalia since his Academy days. He’s out here every year as Master of the Hunt but he doesn’t stay. Save for his first year, when Zelda wasn’t at the Academy, he had always been paired with her. Being back with her under this auspicious festival was a little like coming home. Normally he teleported home after seeing everyone off, and normally he was the only one out here, no other chaperone. Though Zelda insisted she come to see Sabrina off for her first Lupercalia.

The extra basket seemed like fate, though Faustus knows her enough to know that she makes her own odds. He’s sure of it when he sees her lingerie. She’s wearing a black see-through bodysuit with lace. It’s a bit of a departure from her daily sets of black silk and lace bras, underwear, garter belts, and stockings. She usually wears so many layers, like him. And tonight, just one unfastening and she’ll be naked before him. He runs his gloved hands over her bare legs.

She kneels in front of him, “You’re overdressed, Faustus.” She brings his hands up to her mouth and pulls his gloves off with her teeth. It’s cold out here in the woods during winter but she doesn’t feel it at all with his heated gaze on her. She continues to divest him of all of his clothes save his boxers. He moves from the ground and kneels before her. He hands Zelda the jar of blood, and she grabs the dagger and dips it in the blood. She swipes it across Faustus’s forehead, “By Lilith’s blood,” and he anoints her forehead and whispers, “By Lucifer’s love.”

Both of their minds flash to the play weeks prior. Zelda couldn’t help but see herself in Lilith as she watched Sabrina play her. And in Lucifer, she saw Faustus. Within her she knew the game had changed then and there, she knew they could both finally get what they wanted. Play the game but within new terms. She wanted commitment. She had turned to Faustus as the play ended, and as his eyes met hers, she knew he wanted it too. But she knew he would be unable to admit it to himself. He would need encouragement, and encouragement he would have.

Faustus looks at her as if she’s the most sublime thing in the world. And to him she is. She’s a worthy opponent, she makes his blood boil. No one makes him angrier, or more turned on than her. There were surprises at every corner with this mercurial creature. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to destroy or consume her at any given moment. She pressed his buttons, demanded things from him he didn’t want to give, and then he always gave. She reveled in his misery, and then gives comfort. This is the game they play.

He pulls her close and presses a bruising kiss to her mouth, their foreheads touch and the blood smears. They both know this is a night of abstinence, the reward for tomorrow is much greater than this. But they’ve never been able to stop themselves during Lupercalia. She pulls away and grabs the milk. Faustus’s face is covered in blood and blood-red lipstick. Just how she likes him.

“I thought you did a wonderful job with the students for The Passion Of Lucifer Morningstar. Though it wasn’t nearly as scandalous as when we played those roles.” She laughs, thinking back to it, and removes the blood from Faustus. He laughs too, they had been so young and so bold in their day. Zelda’s hair was longer then and she did the entire play almost completely naked. Her hair covering her breasts, and the barest amount of fabric at her waist covering her. Faustus was practically naked too.

“You were quite the Lucifer to my Lilith. I also remember bowing, the curtain closing, and picking up where we left off.” She laughs as she remembers scandalizing the school. Faustus wipes the blood from her forehead. The sounds of their carnality rang through the stage, and they couldn’t be bothered by the audience leaving on the other side.

His face turns serious, he pushes her to the ground, and moves on top of her. She would hunt him tomorrow but tonight he would be the aggressor. The wolf howls in the distance, and as he told the students, he’s staying close to his partner.

Her legs are spread open to him, and he situates himself between her legs. Mere slips of fabric between them. The moon is shining down on them and Zelda looks incredible in the moonlight. Her skin is pale and luminous, her lips blood red, and her touch is fire. The howling of the wolf only makes him more aggressive. His prey is laying beneath him, at his mercy. His hands roughly paw at her, and her moans only embolden him. He presses his hand to the gusset of her bodysuit, just at her entrance. And he feels her arousal, hot, wet and ready for him. He moves his mouth, anxious to taste her. It’s been too long since he’s had a taste of her. He opens his mouth and rips the gusset apart with his teeth. Zelda shudders at the movement. He brushes the fabric out of his way and is finally rewarded with the taste of her hot cunt on his tongue.

Zelda’s hands immediately fly to his head, wanting to hold him there as long as she can. She digs her nails in his scalp, and her legs clamp around him. What a glorious way to die, he thinks. His tongue and fingers buried deep in Zelda. Death by sex and suffocation.

Zelda bucks into him, and while he could do this all night, he wants more. He wants to fuck her as hard as he can, as hard as she deserves. The Dark Lord will forgive them this night. He moves his head and climbs up her body. She pulls down his face to meet hers and tastes herself on his lips. He enters her without any preamble, and her breath catches as he pounds into her.

“Did you miss this, Faustus? Miss fucking me anywhere and everywhere? Did you touch yourself in my absence? Did you think of me?” He’s pounding into her harder and harder, and she’s doing her best to maintain a line of thought.

He’s reticent to reply but he knows it will only tease her further. “Of course I missed this. Denying me, is denying yourself though too. As I touched myself and thought of you, did you do the same? Did you take your pretty little manicured hand, and place it between your legs and moan out my name as you came?”

He knows his voice is often her undoing, and he continues, “Why deny ourselves when you can have my cock and my tongue up your hot cunt whenever you want?”

She’s so close and she’s so mad he’s winning. His voice combined with his filthy words always set her alight. And she’s already on fire with him between her legs.

“You’re the one who won’t label it, Faustus.” Her eyes sear into his, “You’re the one stopping this. Don’t you want to come inside me? Instead of your hand? Don’t you want to come on my breasts? In my mouth? Don’t you want to mark me as yours, and know I walk around with your come dripping out of me all day?”

And just as she finishes the last words, his eyes roll back in his head, he cries her name, and in fact comes within her. Rejoicing in her win, she orgasms as well. Her walls clench around him, and he’s panting as he completely empties himself inside of her.

He opens his eyes and sees her smiling, she has her prize, he knows. She said the filthiest magic words he can think of. He was always so greedy with her, and he can’t think of anything he wants to do more than marking her as his. Her smile may seem to signal his defeat but he feels as though he’s won too. Because in his discarded coat lies a box with turtledove hearts.

 

—————


	2. Lupercalia — The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final part of Lupercalia — The Hunt

After an evening apart, Faustus surely busy with Academy affairs, and she herself busy with getting Hilda ready for her seduction of her bookstore owner, Zelda found herself looking forward to Lupercalia’s culminating event of The Hunt even more so than usual. She sat at her desk at The Academy mentally flipping through her lingerie drawer trying to pick out something deadly when a knock came at the door.

“Enter!”

A timid head peeked through the door, “Father Blackwood would like to see you, Professor Spellman,” and she left promptly.

Zelda turned and glanced in the mirror to check her hair and make-up. Her heels clipped on the marble as she strode to Faustus’s office, their relationship prim and proper in the light of day.

“You summoned me, Your Excellency?”

“I did,” he clears his throat and rises, “As you well know, since the death of my wife, I have been reluctant to make our relationship “official,” as you put it.”

This again. She hopes he’s resolved or close to resolving this. She’ll play as much as she can, she’s here for the long haul but she usually gets her way faster. And after the events the other evening, she thought she made herself clear.

He continues, “Partly because my marriage to Constance drained me.”

“I would hardly be a burden to you, Father Blackwood.” She likes using formalities in times like these, it only heightens her crying out his given name when she’s fucking him. “If anything, I could help you realize your ambitions as High Priest. As I did for my brother Edward, when he was High Priest.”

She twists the knife a little at the mention of Edward. She knows Faustus hates that his student surpassed him and stole the rank from under him. She remembers Faustus taking it out on her in the most delicious and violent way at the time. He used her as much as she used him. She turns, she has little patience for this right now. She won’t beg for this.

“That’s the other source of my reluctance. When we were at the Academy, Zelda, when I was mentor to Edward, and he was my protégé,” Faustus takes a deep breath, “I confided in him that I planned to ask for your hand in marriage…”

Her back is still to him, her brow knits in confusion. This is the first she’s ever hearing of it. Damn, Edward. Damn, Faustus. This should have been her choice as it was now. She turns as he continues.

“...and your brother...well,” he pauses, “he rebuked me.”

She walks towards him, “Edward did?” They’re silent for a beat.

“But I confess I have felt his specter hovering over us, even in the woods last night.” She smiles a little remembering it.

“But this morning, after my prayers and reflection, I had a revelation from the Dark Lord, that the time for us has come.” He turns and picks up the box on his desk, and Zelda steps forward. Hoping it is what she thinks it is. She takes the box from his outstretched hands and opens it with a small gasp, “Turtle-dove hearts.” She looks at him, his face serious for this serious occasion. “Faustus, you’re proposing marriage?” She smiles slightly. This is what she hoped but more than she thought she’d receive. Mainly she wanted their relationship in the open, marriage was a different beast entirely.

“It is the Dark Lord’s will. We both know it. Perhaps it has always been so.”

She’s pleased, and now she has the upper hand, “The Dark Lord notwithstanding, I shall consider your proposal and get back to you.” She flips the lid of the box and turns on her heel. Staunch in the face of a proposal, not just one, but really two. He had pined for her always, for centuries. Hours without an answer was nothing in the face of it but she knew her answer would be yes.

Faustus watched her leave, his eyes burning into her, slightly amused at her non-answer. He knew she would say yes. He knew she would come back to him.

—————

She’s pleased and vain as she breaks the news to Hilda. She scoffs at Hilda’s ideas of love. The idea had never occurred to her. She and Faustus had a long and complicated history. It wasn’t love. It was more of an addiction. An addiction to one another’s bodies, and the game they had always played. Marriage would now be the ultimate level on which to play. Zelda could help him, in whatever capacity he needed, and she would ensure her family’s status. And hopefully, more power for herself. Love didn’t have anything to do with it.

—————

Faustus never attended The Hunt, not since his student days, he left that to Head Boy and this year, he trusted Ambrose to it. He’s sitting beside the fire in his study at his ancestral home, hoping to hear from Zelda soon. He knows her answer but he wants to hear it from her lips, and he wants her.

There’s a knock at his door, and he knows it’s her judging by the sound of it. The sight he’s met with is incredibly rewarding. She’s dressed for The Hunt, resplendent in riding boots, and a red cape. He can only see a sliver of her red lingerie below but he knows he’ll see it soon. He grins and she speaks, “I’ll give you to ten.”

He turns and runs through the house as fast as he can. She’s counting out loud, and she hears the back door of his house slam, “five, four,” her nails tap on the front door, “three, two, one.” And she runs through the house and as she’s running, she sees a discarded jacket, tie, and a shirt. She runs out of the house, through the gardens of his ancestral home, and sees his tattooed back in the moonlight, still running ahead of her. She grins, she’s not as young as she once was, neither of them are, but she is unmatched in her need to win.

She’s gaining on him, and she smiles as she launches herself at his back, her arms around his neck, and he falls to the ground. He’s laughing underneath her and she moves so he can turn over and face her. She readjusts herself astride him.

“Yes,” she breathes against his lips, “Yes, Faustus, I’ll marry you.” And he crashes his lips to hers.

They’re slightly out of breath already and kissing doesn’t help matters. She pulls away, trying to catch her breath. “We’re not as young as we used to be,” she laughs and he joins in. “Though you look the same,” her hand caresses his face. He looks even younger when he’s laughing and carefree. It’s an unusual sight, they’ve had many serious years and events recently. Which is why this engagement during the Lupercalia is all that more rewarding. What better way to celebrate this moment on this night?

“You look the same, though dare I say, if it’s even possible, more tantalizing than ever.” He brushes the cape from her shoulders and his breath hitches as he takes in the sight of her deep red see-through bodysuit, her garter belt holding her stockings and her legs and feet clad in her riding boots. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think the Dark Lord created her just for him.

“Oh Zelda,” he sits up, she’s still in his lap, her legs wrap around him. He bends his head and captures a nipple with his mouth through the bodysuit. She leans her head back, and grinds into his lap. His hand comes up and massages her other breast. She moans, and his mouth is sucking at her hard. He moves his mouth to the other one, and does the same. It feels like an electric current has moved through her. He’s alternatively sucking, biting, swiping his tongue at her nipples in broad strokes, and massaging her breasts with his hands. The fabric of her bodysuit is only adding more friction against her tender flesh. It’s sweet torture. She rocks herself into his lap, his cock pressing against her entrance.

She climbs off of him and sits on the ground in front of him, pulling off his trousers, boxers, and his shoes and socks. Normally he’d be wearing a wolf skin on this night, but the glint in his eye and his wolfish grin is enough.

She crawls towards him on her hands and knees, and stops just as his cock is directly in front of her face. He’s sitting with his legs splayed and she’s between them. She presses a kiss to the tip and swirls her tongue around him. Her motions are slow, teasing. She kneels before him and wraps a hand around him, as she takes him completely into her mouth. She sucks at him and her cheeks hollow.

He’s leaning back on his arms, taking in the sight of her. It’s almost too much to take in. The sight of her hands and mouth on him, the feeling of it, it’s all overwhelming. His breathing is strained, and as she continues gliding her hands over his cock, and teasing him with her tongue, he lets out a moan. She’s emboldened by the sounds coming from him. She loves that her body, her ministrations, render him speechless. She twists her hand around him, followed by her mouth and she moves up and down his shaft. Her other hand is massaging his scrotum, and from all of his breathing she knows how much he likes it. She files away all of these little notes of noises from Faustus. Trying new things to hear new noises, and his breath hitch. It makes her feel powerful even in what is traditionally seen as an inferior position.

She pulls her mouth up his shaft and swirls her tongue around the top of him, and moves her mouth to his scrotum. Her hands continue to glide over his cock, as she sucks at his scrotum and it’s then that she hears his breathing change once more. He’s making new, and strained sounds of pleasure. She smiles and continues, she’s anxious to hear more.

His hand flies to her head, and he finds his voice, “Zelda,” she looks up at him, and he’s barely able to contain himself. She’s wild, and he wants nothing more for her to continue, but not on this night. “As talented as you are with everything, fellatio included, I’m afraid I won’t last much longer with that talented mouth and those sure hands on me.” She smiles, and she catalogs away this moment. He pulls her up to him so they’re level and face to face, “And make no mistake that my prize this evening is burying my cock in my soon-to-be wife, and fucking her so well that she comes spectacularly underneath me.”

He lunges forward and captures her lips with his. And she moans into his mouth as his tongue glides over here. She’s already incredibly turned on, by her power over him, by the noises he makes, by his compliments, his voice, and she’s surprised by his mention of wife — surprised how much her body responded to it. A jolt of lust swept through her, and she wants him more than ever. She wants him to claim her even more.

Faustus unties the cape at her throat as he continues to kiss her, and he runs his hands down her arms and holds her hands in his. He presses kiss after kiss to her throat and neck. He knows she loves being showered with adoration. Between kisses he speaks against her skin, “Tell me, my dear, what you want. What do you want the most?” His kisses are tender and soft, not at all what they’re usually like. He’s teasing her, he wants her to say all of the filthy thoughts running through her head.

She’s impatient and it’s working. “Please, Faustus.” His hand moves to a strap at her shoulder, he presses a kiss there and brushes the strap from her. “Please, what?” He says in a silky tone, as he moves to her other shoulder and does the same.

“Please fuck me,” she whispers. She’s kneeling still, and she’s not moved an inch and Faustus continues to kiss her neck, shoulders, and chest. His hands are at her thighs as he unclasps her stockings, and she lifts up slightly so he can do the ones at the back of her thighs. He runs his hands down the middle of her body and stopping just at her center. She widens her legs, needing his fingers at her core. He unclasps the gusset of her bodysuit in an instant, years of this and he has a practiced hand. He pulls the bodysuit over her head, throws it from her, and she’s finally naked before him save her riding boots.

Her body is flushed, and it’s certainly from their activities, as the ground is cold beneath them. He has so many things he wants to do to her but all in good time. He brings his mouth yet again to her breast, this time no fabric between him and her. She grips his head against her as he sucks at her. His other hand moves between her legs, lightly teasing her entrance with a finger, and then two. He moves to her other breast and licks and sucks at her. She grips his head to her, and scratches her nails at his skull. He slowly pushes two fingers inside her, and she’s molten hot with want. “More,” she says and Faustus happily obliges. He moves his fingers within her, and his thumb just brushes over her clit, and her hands on him tighten. His mouth sucks at her breasts harder, his hands busy. One between her legs and the other on whichever breast he doesn’t have in his mouth, and it’s a sensory overload for Zelda. Like her, he’s learned her body. Too well. A quick learner, and one as hardworking and disciplined as she is. A pair they make.

His hand between his legs deserves an award. He took his time in building her up, and now she’s about to fall apart under him. His mouth at her breast lets up, “Come for me, Zelda. You know you want to. You’re so close,” a swipe of his tongue at her nipple, “Be a good girl, and come with my fingers inside you and my mouth on your tits.”  
And that’s all it takes, she complies. She orgasms and her walls tighten around his fingers. Her breathing is loud, it’s a mixture of panting and whimpers.

The sounds she’s making make Faustus’s cock twitch, he wants to bury himself inside her — soon enough, he thinks. As she’s riding out her orgasm, Faustus thinks to the purpose of Lupercalia. It’s an ancient tradition and mostly the Church celebrates it for lusty purposes. It’s not fully lost its meaning amongst the most devout, but the students at the Academy observe it for fucking alone. He thinks of Zelda, who knows of the fertility past of the event.

She’s never failed to participate in this event as a student, she knows the scripture and traditions behind it. She herself, as a midwife, recommends fertility rites during Lupercalia. And now as she’s panting at his shoulder, her naked body in his arms, he realizes that there’s something within him that wants this pastoral festival to be something more between them. He meant what he said during the matching, she did look ripe, fecund. As a staunch traditionalist, he knows Zelda would never have a child out of wedlock, but now what’s stopping them. It’s not the time to bring it up, not right now, not this moment, but he does want to know her thoughts.

Her breathing returns to normal, and he leans her back against the ground. He’s above her, their naked bodies creating their own halo of warmth under the cold Lupercalian moon. His mouth is teasing at hers. She fastens her arms around his neck, and opens her mouth at his. This shouldn’t feel this good. His hands massage her ass, and thighs. She’s louder underneath him, and he’s surprised when he hears his own moans mingling with hers. He pulls away, he can’t wait any longer.

Her pale skin is aglow in the moonlight and her eyes are fiery, begging for more. He leans back and removes each boot and stocking from her legs. He suddenly wishes she had brought her riding crop, he grins.

He turns back to Zelda, who is wanton with lust, laying on the ground. Her hair is perfectly in place as always, her makeup too, the only thing that belies her undone state is her arched back. It’s calling to his. He leans over her, his hands on the ground near her head, and his cock is just at her entrance.

He gives her a questioning look, and she nods. “iter iterumque te feriam.” (I shall strike you again and again.)

He’s looking into her eyes as he says the words clearly, enunciating every single part.

Her eyes flash at his, and she licks her lips, “Me nunc atque in perpetuum feries. officium nostrum ipsum est.” (Strike me now and forever. Our duty is the same.)

Her voice is throaty and clouded with lust but clear as day. He looks into her eyes, and he pushes into her just as she says, “est.” She’s incredibly wet and hot, Faustus feels lightheaded already. She’s intoxicating. Her body is so tight as he pulls out of her, it feels like she’s gripping him. Her body wants him to stay. He pushes into her and pulls back, again and again. His hands are cradling her head and back, as her body takes each slam of his. Her legs are wrapped around his waist tightly, there’s no room between them. Their heavy breathing fills the space around them. Their warm breath is a fog in the chilly night air.

“Faustus,” Zelda says, in a warning, and he moves to look at her. She’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever laid eyes on. Her breath hitching in her throat and her eyes tell him that she’s close. He can feel it. She closes her eyes, focusing on Faustus’s touch.

“Look at me, Zelda.” And she does, she opens her eyes to see him looking at her almost tenderly, and she smiles a little and brushes his face with her hand. He’s continuing to pump in and out of her, never letting up.

“Come with me, husband. Now.” And she pulls him in even more with her legs, locking him to her. She knew the words would be magic to his ears, and she wasn’t wrong. His arms tighten around her, and he thrusts his hips even faster against hers. He’s hitting all of the right spots, and the force of him at this speed overwhelms her and her orgasm crashes over her. Her walls tighten around him, and her nails scratch at his back. Her body pulls his orgasm from him, and he cries out her name as he spills his seed inside her. His movements drop to a slower pace, and he’s breathing in short bursts.

She pulls his face to hers and kisses him soundly. His movements slow even further and then to a stop, and she’s still kissing him. He makes a motion to move, forever concerned he’s crushing her body, and her legs, now slack and at his sides, come up to grip him. She pulls her lips away, “Don’t you dare move.”

His hand comes up to her face and he brushes her lips with his thumb, “Lips of honey, eyes of fire,” and he captures her lips with his. They stay this way, him between her legs, kissing, until the cold night’s air is finally felt upon their flesh.

He pulls away from her, she’s now growing colder by the minute now that they’re no longer in the throes of passion. They dress hastily, and in silence. They’re busy with thoughts running through their minds, and adding back the layers of clothing to protect them against the cool wind.

He turns to her fully dressed, and she’s finishing up clipping her stockings to her bodysuit. She looks as though she did when she arrived, pristine.  
And not as though he’s thoroughly fucked her into the bed of his garden. Her lips bruised and pillowy, and there are small bites at her neck but only his trained eyes will notice. He’s about to invite her inside for a glass of whiskey, as tradition, but she steps forward and speaks instead. “I’d love to, but I’m anxious to get back. It’s Sabrina’s first Lupercalia, and she might need me.” He’s forever annoyed by the mention of Sabrina, but he understands. If you didn’t know her like he did, you’d think she was cold and unfeeling but truthfully, she’s warm and maternal.

“Of course, I understand.”

She steps towards him and presses a kiss against his cheek. “Good night, Faustus. This might have been our best Lupercalia.”

“Yet,” he remarks with a grin. She nods and smirks, and in a moment, she’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SpellwoodManor on Tumblr. Xx


	3. The Seating Chart

Aside from Sabrina’s attitude and Lady Blackwood visiting Zelda, the wedding plans were in full swing. Especially on the auspicious occasion of the Anti-Pope’s arrival to marry her and Faustus.

The events of Lupercalia set it in Zelda’s mind that there would be no doubt that the union would ultimately benefit the two of them. They were a pair, and had been for some time, even if it wasn’t based on love like Sabrina said. Love didn’t factor into a decision like this. She admired Faustus, for his power, and his position.

If The Passion Of Lucifer Morningstar has taught her anything it was that she and Faustus worked well together, and that like Lilith and Lucifer, they would be better together than apart. It didn’t hurt that the physical attraction had not waned through all of the years. Their individual hunt for power would be suited and bolstered by one another. The Spellmans would climb higher once more, with Faustus at Zelda’s side, and Faustus would have a powerful witch and wife at his side for his endeavors.

Her play to keep things professional worked in her favor, and now here she was, in Faustus’s office once more, but now planning the seating chart. Check, Zelda.

Their hands danced around the board, “Ah Brother Madchen next to Brother Lovecraft. Good. And Brother Barker?”

She was pleased everything was coming along, and pleased to have this time with Faustus. Especially since the house was heavy with Sabrina and Ambrose’s moods.

“Ah, Table ten. Away from Brother Bierce.”

“And, um...Sister Shirley Jackson? She seems to have...ah, fallen…” Faustus looks to Zelda as she flicks her cigarette on the stone with Shirley’s name, right in the ashtray he always keeps at his desk, just for her.

“Yes, it would appear so, wouldn’t it?”

They share a smile, “Quite right. Shirley’s a nag.” They smile again.

“Faustus, I have a request.” No time like the present, she thinks. Especially considering he’s loathe to say no to her looking like this, and considering his good mood.

“My sister was, as you know, excommunicated.”

Faustus nods, “She witnessed a Catholic baptism.” And Zelda still feels the sting and betrayal of it but Hilda is her sister, and one thing in a lifetime should be forgiven.

“But Hilda has been atoning these last few months, and I believe she is ready to return to the Church of Night’s embrace.” She emphasizes I, she knows the decision lies with Faustus but she’s ready to start using her position for the betterment of the family. Starting with Hilda.

Faustus smiles at her, he too knows this game. And how can he say no to his bride-to-be. “For your sake, Zelda, I will reverse your sister’s excommunication.” Another win, she’s pleased.

“I assume she’ll be keeping you company the night before the wedding, as is customary? Should you be...visited.” Her face turns serious, she’s not given it too much thought, or rather pushed that part of their wedding from her mind.

She pauses and remembers what Prudence asked of her, “At the risk of straining your mercy and generosity, I wonder if you would allow me one more appeal.” She brightens, trying to sell this to Faustus. Even though she knows his heart is settled on the matter. “On behalf of your daughter, Prudence.”

He stills. She understands his feelings towards it, illegitimate children, though frequent in the Church of Night, are not regularly made legitimate. Zelda doesn’t trust Prudence all that much, especially what she’s seen from her days teaching at the Academy and her dealings with Sabrina. But Ambrose is particularly taken with her, she did help hide Leticia, and after all, she is Faustus’s daughter.

Zelda smiles at him, hoping for a positive answer. Frankly she’s glad that her request for Hilda went first judging by the look on Faustus’s face. He turned away from the seating chart to look at her, as she took a drag of her cigarette.

“Zelda, I appreciate you reaching out on behalf of Prudence. I assume she came to you with this, and you are not acting of your own volition. But she has come to me many times on this and my answer is firm. She will not be a Blackwood by name. She’s an illegitimate child.”

His face looks even more serious, perhaps slightly nervous. “She will not be in line as my heir,” he moves his hand to her waist, “but you can be sure that any children we have will be legitimate and have the Blackwood name.”

She had not anticipated this turn in the conversation, she sets down her cigarette, her face as serious as his, “Faustus, I…” She’s now at a loss for words. They’ve been so busy in wedding details and he has an heir in Judas that she had not considered this a topic between them.

His gaze turns to her face, and sees that she’s a little stunned by his comment, and for the first time at a loss for words. “Zelda, I know we’ve not talked about this but I would be pleased to have more children. Especially with you. More heirs in the Blackwood line, legitimate ones.”

Part of her feels joy. Joyful that he wants children with her. She had written it off ages ago, she was like a mother to Ambrose and Sabrina but that had been it. But in a similar way to watching The Passion Of Lucifer Morningstar, reciting the words during the Lupercalia Hunt had felt different. These traditions felt different this year. Helped illuminate a path forward. One she found she wanted. One with Faustus. And even, during the Hunt, one with a child. The words had a different meaning than all of the times she’s said them with Faustus, during their other Lupercalian Hunts. There was something that shifted within her — a want and a need she didn’t know she had before. She meant the words as she said it, she realized. Joining their two families not just by marriage but by blood too, would be good for them both. Something they both wanted. She already took on duties with Judas, and being around him and tending to him made her heart glad.

She smiles at him, at his proposition, “I confess I had not considered the thought until now, but it would be nice to have another baby in the house.”

She’s careful with her words. She’s unsure if she can even have children, she’s not tried before. As a midwife, she had always been serious about preventing pregnancies not just with her clients but with herself. Especially since she was unmarried. But now things were different.

Faustus’s eyes burned into hers, lust painting his face, and his hand grips tighter on her waist, “Zelda,” and she brings her lips to his in a bruising kiss. His arms snake around her back in a crushing embrace, holding her as tightly to him as possible. Her hands are at his collar, holding him tightly to her as well.

He grabs her, lifts her in his arms, and sets her on the desk — seating chart be damned. He pulls his lips away from hers. His expression light. She can see how happy he is. Was this not the point of this marriage? To work together towards common goals? And now they had found another one.

She smiles back at him, her hands play with his tie, “I’ve not taken any precautions this month. I’ve not taken my monthly potion. It wouldn’t have been too late, it still won’t be. But considering the circumstances, I won’t, and who knows? The Lupercalian moon might have blessed us already.”

Faustus steps between her legs and pushes the deep red silk of her dress up her thighs. She now sees the prospect of children with her is a new point with him. The bare lust on his face is clear, he wants her, more than ever. She moves her hands to his waist coat, slowly slipping the buttons through. His hands are caressing her thighs.

“I have a confession, Your Excellency.” Her deft hands are now at his shirt, pulling it from his trousers. His hands grip her ass and pull her closer to the edge of the desk, closer to him, close enough that she can feel his cock between her legs. Satan, she wants more.

“Then tell your High Priest, Sister Zelda.” He’s gripping her ass and pushing into her. There are still so many layers between them but she can feel the heat radiate off of him.

She pushes his jacket, waist coat, and shirt from him. Her hands running up his chest, her touch tracing the tattoos adorning his skin. She brings her mouth forward and places a kiss at his skin.

“I confess that as I accepted your proposal, and as I whispered the ancient words we recite during every Lupercalian Hunt, I meant them. I know now that I did,” she places another kiss at his chest. A heavy, and honest confession. But also one in which would make Faustus realize his choice in proposing had been a good one. That they made a pair, even more than he thought. She was vital to him.

Faustus brings his hands to her face and holds her head so he can look at her. “Satan, Zelda. I confess the same. A marriage of good omens lie before us. And now possibly a child conceived during Lupercalia.”

A hand leaves her face and brushes down her body, lightly over her stomach, a smile at his face. And then a smirk as his hand moves and presses between her thighs. His fingers dancing on the silken fabric covering her sex. “Or, possibly, a child conceived now. No less a blessing.”

She pulls his head down to hers. Her lips captured his, and he opens his mouth to her. He removed his hands from between her legs and despite being still clothed he gripped her ass once more, and thrusted against her. This confession, this goal, has somehow found her mixed with more emotions than she thought possible. They were still playing a game but now, it seemed to be the same game. On the same side. Them versus everyone else.

She brought her hands to the knot at his tie, threw it from him, and worked on the buttons at his wrists. She pushed everything from him and it fell to the floor, her hands moved quickly to his trousers and undid the button and zipper.

Faustus pulled his face from hers, his eyes sweeping over her. “If I didn’t love this dress so much, I’d tear it to shreds so I could have you naked beneath me instantly.” She smiled flirtatiously at him. He swept his hand over her dress, and suddenly it disappeared from her body, surely tucked away somewhere in the office.

He eyed her lingeried figure below him, black lace and silk. “Satan, Zelda. You’ll be the death of me.” He traced the outline of her bra with a finger, and brushed against the swell of her breasts. She leaned back on her arms to give him a better view. To worship her, as his eyes and hands suggested.

“How can I ever get anything done when I know what your body looks like beneath all of your clothes? When I know how your body responds when I touch you?”

He traces his fingers over her bra, he brushes her nipples again and again with his hands. She lets out a sigh. He vanishes it too. His lips capture a nipple, her mouth now free. “Surely you can delegate so you can fuck your wife.”

He lets out a groan against her breast. He moves his mouth to her other nipple, sucks at her, and lightly bites the flesh of her breast.

He pushes his trousers and boxers down, and positions himself just as Zelda’s entrance. Teasing her as he moves his cock up and down her entrance. She’s looking at him with greedy eyes, she knows. His face is teasing. “Tell me, Zelda. Tell me how much you want my cock inside you. How much you want me to come inside you. How your wet hot cunt is mine and mine alone.”

Her head is swimming, as it always does when he uses his voice like this. Spilling dirty thoughts aloud. The effect it has on her body is troublesome. He has a direct key to her lust. They’ve always been the possessive type. She knows him, he knows her. Her breathing is tready with the shallow breaths she’s taking. Faustus continues to brush his cock at her entrance, never pushing in. Her eyes burn into his, “I’m yours, Faustus. Please. Please fuck me.”

She knew the halo of power that fell onto her now that she would be his wife. She loved basking in his attention, and now it would be for all to see. A higher rank in the coven, and a high rank with Faustus. She wanted to feel her new found glory everywhere.

Faustus pushed into her, and the feel of him between her legs was exquisite. “Forever mine,” he said as he gripped her thighs, setting a pace of thrusting in and out of her. Their loud breathing filled the room along with skin slapping against skin. “Satan, Zelda, you’re so tight. Fuck.”

He pounded into her harder, his hips smacking into her. Satan, this felt good. He moved his thumb to her clit and rubbed at her. She arched her back, letting pleasure wash over her.

“Do you have any idea just how beautiful you are?” His left hand passes over her neck, and all the flesh bared before him.

“I have some idea,” she leaned up on her elbows. Faustus smirked at her.

“And that mouth,” he brushed her bottom lip with a finger and she licked his digit, sucking it in her mouth.

His hand between them moved faster, and her breath caught. She let his finger fall from her mouth as her head titled back in a strained moan. Her body tightened around Faustus, and a wave rolled through her. Faustus looked at his cock entering and disappearing within her, the sight of that, the feel of her cunt tightening around him, her perfume filling the air around them, and her moans filling the air. It was a symphony. Her hands were are her sides in a strained manner, seeking to grip the edge of the desk as her orgasm ripped through her. “Faustus,” she cried out. Her once languid body became stiff, as it clenched tighter, trying to savor each wave of her orgasm.

“Come with me,” she said and she crossed her heels behind his thighs to press him into her as much as possible. Her hands found his forearms and gripped them as she continue to writhe underneath him. Faustus had purposefully held back, so he could see Zelda in all her glory. Her skin flush and her eyes molten with lust. And now he let go, pounded into her even harder, hips snapping, and choked back a moan. She sat up at the edge of the desk, her legs wide open with him between them moving furiously.

“Harder, Faustus, deeper,” and her hands gripped his ass and her nails dig into his flesh. His breathing was loud in the office, as was hers, and his arms wrapped around her back. “Zelda,” he groaned out into her hair, as his orgasm hit him. And yet another one hit Zelda. The surprise of it had her calling out his name again. She hoped students weren’t around. There would be no hiding what was happening in here. His thrusts became less frantic and slowed, and she could feel him deep within her. He brought his lips to hers and kissed her soundly as he stayed inside of her. The aftershocks of his orgasm twitched his body every so often. Zelda continued to hold him tight to her.

Faustus pulled his lips away and rested his forehead to hers. His breathing still labored. “I guess we need to redo the seating chart,” she breathed against him, wriggled a little in his arms, and he laughed. He held her face in his hands, she never failed to amuse him and flirt with him.

“That we do,” his lips smirking back at her.

She motioned to move, but he stilled her. He gripped her ass with his hands and moved them backwards to sit in his chair, on his lap, still inside her.

“Faustus,” she was tempted to roll her eyes but didn’t, “we have more wedding details to attend to. I know you want it as perfect as I do, especially with the Anti-Pope visiting.”

He brought his hands to her breasts, “I do, I want everything to be perfect, and it will be. We can work on everything this evening. But right now I have other pressing concerns.” He pushed up into her as he spoke.

His hands brushed her stomach, praying to Satan that He would bless them with a child.

She was surprised at the tenderness of his touch and look. It had gone from playful to slightly serious suddenly. She knew he took his bloodline seriously, but she had not prepared herself for this. But Faustus had always been possessive, and what better way to mark her permanently, as forever his, not just by marriage, but by child. Her hand held his face, and she brought her lips down to his. He hummed in her mouth, and she rocked her hips against his. She could certainly get used to a lifetime with Faustus between her legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SpellwoodManor on Tumblr. Xx


	4. The Night Before

The evening, as a whole, had been disastrous. That was putting it mildly. Despite Zelda’s insistence that being near the Dark Lord, being devout, and gaining power was all she longed for, she found herself wholly unprepared for the evening before her wedding.

Luckily Hilda had been there to tend to her and wait the time together, her heart and stomach unclenched when she realized the late hour and that He would not come. It was then she had made peace with the fact this part of their religion scared her. And considering her life, and tangling with sex demons, and hell, even Faustus, this had been truly too much to bear. And yet when the Dark Lord took her by surprise and entered her suite at the Academy, she had been truly terrified. Dorcas’s screams broke through, and in a gust of wind the Dark Lord retreated. Zelda felt so wholly relieved but this had been the best cast scenario. She had been devout enough that He showed, and yet she did not have to consummate this part of her holy pact with Satan. Praise Satan indeed.

The relief was short-lived with seeing Ambrose with knife in hand in His Holy Eminence’s chambers. Faustus naturally took hold of the situation, in the way that only a man can, with brute force and no diplomacy whatsoever.

But no matter, Ambrose spirited away before Faustus could slaughter him as well. Zelda had no illusions about the matter at hand, but Ambrose at the middle of it didn’t make sense. But it didn’t look good either. Faustus had been worked up in a state and now as they headed back to the Academy the air of the backseat of the car was tense. The wedding would go on, Zelda had been surprised. But of course Faustus wouldn’t want to wait another moment, even in the face of this. He could not only preside over the Anti-Pope’s funeral, an honor for any High Priest, and he could be the one to show to the Council that justice had been brought. Despite the fact that this occurred within the walls of his very own Academy. But a coup was a coup.

Zelda sat still in the car next to Faustus, concerned for Ambrose but also very sure that he would be able to take care of himself, and once she was Faustus’s wife, she would be in an even better position to help him. Faustus’s hand moved to her knee and she stared at it as he brushed his fingers across it. His voice was low, “Did the Dark Lord visit you? We haven’t had a moment.” The car sped on in the night headed for the Academy.

She nodded, “He did. He had just arrived as Dorcas screamed, and he left immediately.” His grip tightened on her leg.

“It’s still an honor of itself. He only visits the most devout. It speaks highly of you, whether or not He stayed.” His hands trace to the inside of her leg, moving up her skirt. His fingers brushed against the clasp of her stockings to the naked flesh of her thigh. She held her breath.

“Do you think He will come back tonight?” She exhaled, and did her best to sound far more excited than nervous. She couldn’t let Faustus know her thoughts on the matter.

Faustus’s fingers brushed her silken underwear, and he brought his other arm around Zelda’s waist, pulling her side tightly to his. “I shouldn’t think so. I imagine He has a full schedule.”

His fingers playing on the outside of the silken fabric brushed it aside and he plunged two fingers inside of her. She released her breath in both relief and pleasure. “His Unholy Eminence was right, you do please the Dark Lord.” She moves her legs further apart so Faustus can continue to work his magic.

“Sumptuous, I believe he said.” He’s looking into her eyes with a piercing gaze. Zelda’s hand curls into his hair and brings him down to her lips for a kiss. It’s suddenly heated, and he’s kissing her hard. There’s no softness in this kiss, it’s bruising, and he nips at her lip with his teeth. Possessive Faustus. He moves her across his lap, she’s laid back in his arms, his cock hard beneath his trousers pressing into her ass. If their chauffeur drew down the partition he would find Zelda in the High Priest’s lap with her skirt pushed up and the High Priest’s band working between her legs. Good thing they had never card.

His hands between her legs never stop moving and she moans as he’s pushing her closer to the edge. “Witches and warlocks have always wanted you for themselves, and even his late unholiness found you worthy, and just this evening, the Dark Lord himself.”

His words work her into an even heightened state. She knew her looks were deadly, she was deadlier still, but her vanity had been a quick way to get to her.

His lips are at her neck, marking her completely, and she’s going to have to glamour these in light of the wedding tomorrow.

“It sounds like heresy but I don’t like sharing, Zelda. Even with the Dark Lord. I would have, of course. But knowing He wanted you makes my blood boil. You’re mine.” He brushes her clitoris just so, the way he knows so well, and she’s coming completely apart below him. The tension from the day draining away finally, relieved the hands on her are Faustus’s. She knows what he wants to hear, and as her orgasm rips through her she cries out, “Yours,” to Faustus. Her arm is around his neck, holding on as her body continues to shudder.

“Mine,” he ground out against her lips, and kissed her again, stealing the air from her lungs.

Forever possessive but this confession from him was a surprise. She and Faustus were terribly traditional, and the Dark Lord visiting her was seen as nothing other than an honor. But neither, deep down, wanted it. She had been sure that Faustus would have loved nothing more than Satan Himself defiling his bride-to-be. He had always been a little sadistic, but apparently only by his own hand.

He pulled away and licked his fingers one by one, his eyes glittering in the dark, never breaking eye contact with her. “To think someone else would get to taste you, hear you scream, enjoy your tight hot cunt, it’s too much to bear. And tomorrow, you’ll be mine forever.”

Faustus needs reassurances that he’s the only one. He’s always been like this, stroking his ego is akin to stroking his lust.

Zelda moves a hand to his trousers and feels his cock straining against the fabric. He sucks in a breath as she rubs him through it, and pushes her body into him more. Her nails add a sharp dig every so often. Pleasure and pain is Faustus’s cup of tea.

If there’s any night that Faustus needs a release, it’s this one. She kisses him again, her lipstick marking his face even more, her nails digging into his soft flesh of his neck. His hips buck up into her, wanting more. She pulls back and enjoys the lust she sees on his face combined with her dark lipstick smeared across his lips.

The car stops and she turns to see the Academy lit up even at this dark hour. It ended too soon. She rights herself as best as possible as the car door opens. Faustus steps out and holds his hand out for her. They walk inside the Academy, Zelda’s heels clicking on the marble. They’re silent as they make their way up the stairs. She doesn’t presume that they’ll continue, but Faustus drops her arm that had been resting in the crook of his elbow, and he brings his arm around her waist. As he grips it, she knows this evening won’t be over as soon as it started.

He opens the door to his quarters but as soon as the door shuts, he’s on her, pinning her against the door. Running his hands up her legs, undoing her stockings from her garter belt, unzipping her skirt. Her hand buries itself into his hair as he kneels before her pulling her skirt down, and pulling off her stockings and then her shoes. He presses kisses to her legs, his hands gripping her ass as he makes his way up her body. He rips open her jacket, buttons flying, and starts to tear at anything in his way — her garter belt, her bra, her necklace. Everything comes off. His touch is bruising, Zelda wouldn’t have it any other way.

He’s standing fully dressed before her, he has both of her hands pinned above her head with one hand. The other is at her breast, teasing her nipple just so. “Do you think the Dark Lord would touch you like I do? Know your body as well as I do? Know how wet you get when you’re flattered?”

He curls a strand of her hair around a finger and pulls, “Do you?” He pulls it harder and her head moves to the side and he bites her neck, the pain is incredible and she cries out both in pain and in ecstasy. Faustus walks this line too well.

“No, but I don’t presume to know all of His talents.” She can’t help but tease, it will only enrage Faustus further, only make him covet her more. Which is exactly where she wants him.

He pulls back, his mouth is red with a trickle of blood, hers. His eyes flash at hers, as if this was a challenge between him and Satan himself. He keeps her hands steady with one hand and his other moves to his trousers and they drop to the floor. He enters her without a word. The door is hard at her back, and he’s pounding into her as hard as he can. The noise alone is incredible, her back slamming into the door rhythmically, his heightened breathing. He’s at his best when he’s between her legs, and everywhere else he touches. His flashes of violence would be troublesome to anyone else but he’s been burying himself in her over and over for decades, if not more. She’s started to grow on him. Good.

Her eyes drift close and he quickly moves his hand from hers and grips her neck, “Look at me when I’m fucking you, Zelda. Remember who makes you feel this good. Others may have eyes for you, but they don’t know the particular brand of cruelty that makes you wet and begging for more. Only I do.”

His nails dig in to her neck, and he’s right. They were a pair, her lust was stoked with pain as well. She would be littered tomorrow with marks of his teeth, nails, and hands and she would only relish them. He needed her as much as she needed him.

She scratched his back with her nails as she held onto him as he continued to pound into her. Her hand curled into his hair and gripped his skull. She had been quiet save for moaning and panting this whole time. Best to let the High Priest give sermon and listen to whatever he has to say. He’s revealed far more of himself and his desire for her than he’d probably care to admit.

She clenches her walls around him, her orgasm soon on the horizon, but she knows this tightening around him is often his undoing. She wants him to come when she decides, and suddenly, he is. Crying out her name as he rams himself in her several more times, and with that, she lets herself crest and ride out her orgasm. Her name on his lips feels like another victory. There would be no other woman for him. Not when she and she only brings this out in him. Everyone else would pale in comparison.

He stays in her, their heavy breathing filling the room, but now it’s terribly quiet without the door slamming constantly. He lets her down gently, as though she were delicate, and not like he fucked her into oblivion only a moment ago.

She’s tempted to go back to her room, across the hall. They aren’t ones to sleep together after sex but soon, tomorrow, that would change. Faustus pulls off the rest of his clothing as Zelda collects her things, hoping to slip oh so quietly across the hall unnoticed by anyone awake at this hour at the Academy. Though she wonders if she woke any of them.

As she looks for her last shoe, she sees Faustus holding it in his hand. She places her palm out waiting for him to give it to her. He grins, “Cinderella and her lost slipper.”

“I suppose this makes you Prince Charming,” she rolls her eyes and he laughs. Finally a lighter mood from Faustus.

He pulls her hand and she steps towards him. She kisses him, and he finally places the shoe in her hand. “Your shoe, but I’d rather you stay.”

She’s not one to deny him now, and frankly she’s feeling more wanton by the minute. He’s absolutely naked before her finally, and she drops her clothes and shoes so she can brush her hands over his chest.

He moves and pulls back the covers of his bed and Zelda waits at the other side as he settles. This is the first time they’ve been to bed to expressly sleep. He pulls back the covers of her side, and she slips into bed beside him. She sighs enjoying the silken sheets against her skin. An arm comes around her and pulls her to him. Her head rests on his chest, and her hand can’t stop tracing his tattoos. His breathing becomes more steady and she wonders if he’s fallen asleep but then he opens his mouth to speak.

“Prudence tried to murder me in my sleep this evening. Roughly around the same time the Anti-Pope was murdered.”

She sits up and the silk sheets fall off of her, she’s just now hearing of this, “What?” It doesn’t make any sense to her. She knew Prudence wanted to be recognized but killing Faustus would do her no favors.

“She tried to kill me with a knife,” and he motions over towards his bedside where there is indeed a knife.

“Patricide, Faustus? So, she really is a Blackwood then.” He smiles. She can tell he’s considering Prudence as a Blackwood now. One down, one Ambrose to go.

“That she is. Though I doubt she knows that my father murdered his very own father.”

“Make her a Blackwood by name. She’ll be loyal to you forever.” Her hands are back to caressing his chest, forever entranced with tracing his tattoos and he stills her hands with his. She looks up at him.

“You’ll be a Blackwood tomorrow. Will I have your loyalty forever?”

His face is serious. Her answer can only be swift in this moment.

She nods, “I promise my loyalty to you, Faustus.”

At her words, he brings her head down for a kiss. She’s leaning over him and her breasts brush his chest, it sends a little spark to her core. One of Faustus’s hands wraps around her waist, and she’s pleased that he’s clearly not ready for sleep either.

She moves to trail kisses down his body, she smirks at Faustus as she wraps her hand around his cock and brings her mouth down on him so slowly. He lets out a heavy sigh as her mouth wraps around him. Exquisite torture for Faustus. A small price for loyalty.

She hopes that their interests are aligned mostly, and when they aren’t, she can bend him to her will. She wants him to succeed, not just for himself, but for herself as well. She’s made peace with the vows she will recite tomorrow. She knows they’re mostly one sided. Just like Lilith and Satan, but if Zelda knows anything it’s that she will use her position by Faustus’s side to do her own bidding. She will play the pretty and steady wife of the High Priest, and bolster him, but she was sure as hell going to get something in return.

Her hand moves in conjunction with her mouth and her motions are precise. She loves bringing him to the edge and backing off. His body shakes a little each time. He may have more power in their marriage but her power is here. In their bed, in quiet times alone together. He has a tendency to confess when he’s buried in her or about to be. He has no one else to talk to like this, no one else but her.

She moves to kneel between Faustus’s splayed legs and brings her chest just level with his cock. Faustus’s head is perched on his pillows taking in the view, and Zelda wants to make sure the view is worthwhile. Her hands grip around him, gliding, softly yet firmly, just the way he likes it. She brings his cock between her breasts and Faustus’s breath catches.

“Fuck, Zelda,” he gasping for air and moaning. Music to her ears.

She loves watching him struggle to enjoy this for as long as he can last, this vision of his cock sliding between her breasts. She can see he’s so close, he’s enjoying this too much, but fighting to not come on her right then and there.

He should know that when he comes is entirely up to her, and unless it’s by his own hand, that it will always be the case. Now would be a good learning experience. She dips her mouth and captures the very tip of his cock in her mouth as he’s still sliding between her tits. This must be a sight, she must be a sight. Good.

His body shakes under her, and he cries out, or maybe yells is more accurate, her name. His orgasm rips through him and Zelda makes sure he completely marks her chest with his come. She plays dirty, but it’s the only way with Faustus. He’s hurling more obscenities mixed with her name and the Dark Lord’s. Really it should be her name alone.

The Devil may work hard, but Zelda Spellman works harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SpellwoodManor on Tumblr. Xx


	5. Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Tennis’s Bad Girls.
> 
> Even bad girls can do good things  
> Even bad girls have holy dreams  
> Oh I, I'm not so transparent  
> My intentions, they ain't so apparent  
> Bad girls  
> Even bad girls have tender hearts  
> Even bad girls can fall apart  
> In the night oh I am transformed  
> By the next day I've been reborn  
> If it were physical it would show  
> If it were spiritual oh I would know  
> There is a need always divided  
> from all the things that I've been hiding  
> The truth you know I'll never find  
> I'll never have any peace of mind  
> Its true I know, I'll never find  
> I'll never have any peace of mind  
> If it were physical it would show  
> If it were spiritual oh I would know  
> You know I love a good ceremony yeah  
> That's why I chose matrimony yeah  
> Oh I'll never want to feel ashamed  
> I just can't bear that kind of pain  
> There is a need always divided yeah  
> from all the things that I've been hiding yeah

The air in the car was quiet. In an effort to put some distance between herself and Faustus, Zelda moved over and sat beside Judas in his car seat. He looked at her with Faustus’s eyes, though much warmer than Faustus's had been today. A panic coursed through her as Faustus told her to walk behind him. The pain of it hurt but the embarrassment it caused had been incalculable. She was furious, it took all her might to not cut him down to size immediately. Her position as his wife was to gain power, to better herself and her family and now she felt as though she were another pawn upon his chessboard, and not the other way around.

Judas smiled at her, and she was thankful for the happy distraction. She brushed her still gloved-clad finger along his velvety cheek and he turned his face towards her movement. He’s hungry, she thought. What a long day this had been, and now it would feel even longer. The day would only stretch before them once they deplaned in Rome. She moves to grab his bottle, trying to avoid Faustus as best as she can. But it’s him who holds out the bottle before her and she snatches out of his hand. Or tries to rather. His grip on it is firm and it doesn’t budge. Her fingers, even still leather-clad, brush against his, and all the times this has happened before feels different. She will not give up this anger.

“Let go,” she says in a steady and firm tone. If not harsh.

Faustus’s gaze is piercing, she knows he knows why she’s mad. “You let go,” he says.

“Never,” she hisses back at him. It’s not about the bottle. Judas fusses and Faustus lets go of the bottle.

Zelda busies herself once more with Judas, pleased at least one Blackwood was on her side, coming to her aide. She feels Faustus burning a hole into her with his eyes. She will not directly look or speak with him until he manages any sort of apology. He’s not one for them but he owes her. This is not how she imagined her wedding day going. None of it had been.

She had forged through the wedding despite Sabrina’s sabotage. Faustus forged despite Ambrose’s clear attempt to murder him. Sabrina and Ambrose, like Faustus, had failed to see the finer points to silkier dealings. Zelda had worked away in hushed tones, a plea in Faustus’s ear, a quiet word. Regularly planting seeds of her own wishes and desires but phrased as if Faustus had thought of it himself.

Sabrina and Faustus were as mercurial as she but at least she had subtlety and diplomacy. It had always given her the upper hand. Until now. Faustus had never once embarrassed her publicly as he did not fifteen minutes ago. Truly his first act as a husband. She imagines it was in retaliation to her pleas of letting Sabrina and Nick off with only expulsion. They deserved worse in the eyes of the church and even Academy. Defying the High Priest, interrupting his wedding, calling him a murderer. It had taken all of her recent goodwill from the relationship they had built to make it so that Sabrina and Nick would not endure the wrath that Ambrose had cast upon him. Ambrose, yet again, was another story. It didn’t make any sense, and the boy who had lived under her roof with her for decades was not about to go down for some absurd reason. Not when she knew Faustus was behind it.

If only Sabrina and Ambrose would trust Zelda enough to her own decisions and know that she knew what she was doing. But at every turn it has felt like sabotage. How could she help them all when they constantly tore down her work at every turn? Had she not always done what was best for them? Her intentions may not have been always clear to them but she wasn’t one to share plans. She had trusted her track record of doing and giving her all to the Spellman family would show that enough.

She needed Faustus’s trust too. In order for him to fully use her, and her him.

And now, Faustus felt it necessary to cast more punishment upon Sabrina. Marrying Faustus, leaving with him, had not been enough. But cutting Zelda down to size in front of Sabrina and her sister cut deepest. She felt she was losing her footing for the first time. Faustus’s anger had always been reserved for others, and now it seemed she would bear some of it too.

She would stay mad, but play her part. Her family would not benefit if she didn’t. He knew he bruised her. Their egos were too similar to not know that, and to play it off would be a clear tell. He would apologize in his own way, she would get over it, and continue her path forward in this marriage. For her family, for power. She hoped Faustus’s mood would change soon, this was not who he was. Not with her anyway.

Judas finished his bottle just as the car stopped and pulled up to the private strip of airway. The car door opened and Faustus immediately stepped out. Zelda unbuckled Judas and pulled him to her. He settled immediately at her shoulder and the little weight of him had a surprisingly balm-like effect on her. As she made way out of the car she saw Faustus’s outstretched hand. A small peace offering. She took it more out of need than want, but the sign would be all the same to him.

She stood righting herself and Judas. She wanted to petulantly brush aside Faustus, and walk ahead of him to the stairs of the waiting airplane. But she decided to petulantly wait for him. Luckily both choices would get her point across. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her into him. Her traitorous body welcomed the feeling of him, but her mind railed against him. She walked beside him, apparently it was fine now that they had little audience.

She boarded the plane and settled Judas in his bassinet, her hand resting on his chest as his eyes started to close. She smiled at him, “Dark dreams, darling.”

Faustus’s hand brushed her back and she turns to him, brushed him aside and takes a seat. Faustus, of course, out of the entire empty plane save the three of them, sits next to her. She sighs. She doesn’t remove anything. Not wanting to be comfortable for the moment. Faustus settles in, coat slung across a chair with hat and gloves. This will be a long flight. It’s quiet in the cabin as they take off.

A stewardess brings them champagne, it hardly seems fitting now, but she takes the glass anyway. The stewardess leaves the bucket and disappears. She’s about to drain her coupe, ask for another, and another — something to dull the day, but Faustus grasps her wrist gently and she lowers her glass. She quirks an eyebrow. He says nothing. He’s not one to say sorry. She wants it anyway. He looks sorry. But it’s not the same.

She’s so tired of this day. Tired of her family, tired of Faustus. Her family she would deal with, and on behalf of, but later. At least with Faustus she was able to confront this latest issue. Her anger spikes again, she can sleep later.

Her hands grip his waistcoat violently, “If you want me to walk behind you, Faustus, say so. Privately. I can’t help you, and bolster you, if you don’t tell me. If this is a return to the old ways, I’ll do it. If you think you’re the hand that steadies the ship, I will help steady. I’ll play housewife for you, for your advancement. But talk to me. If you embarrass me again, and you’ll find yourself with only your hand for company for as long as we both shall live.”

He nods his head in agreement, seemingly understandingly, and then adds a smirk. He moves to grip both of her forearms with one of his hands, “I’d find another hand, Zelda. Another witch.”

He lets go of her, and she shrugs and drains the contents of her coupe. She laughs, “I’m sure you would. But she wouldn’t be me.”

He looks mad for a moment, she’s called him out. His hand comes to grip her neck, and his face turns stormy as he crashes his lips against hers.

They’ve done and played this game time and time again. He moves on, various meaningless relationships, even his marriage to Constance. She stays with her family, sleeps around and takes her pleasure whenever she wants. Marriage is the biggest move they’ve ever made together. He has always come back for her. It’s always her he wants. He will never be able to stop his want of her. She knows, he knows.

She can’t think of the day they had, all she wants to do is take this small moment, what was supposed to be an honor of an occasion, and celebrate. Even if she’s still mad. Mad and angry she can work with. She’s fucked Faustus so many times while angry with him, or angry at someone else.

He snakes a hand through her hair and knocks off her hat. His hands open the button at her throat, and divest of the rest of her jacket. He pulls it from her and shoves down the front of her bodysuit. There’s no time for him to appreciate it and she finds she doesn’t care as his mouth clamps down over a nipple. She arches her back into him, pressing into him further. His hand is cupping and massaging her other breast. As his fingers pinch one nipple, his mouth mirrors it and he lightly bites down. Her gloved hands scrabble at his hair in an attempt to keep him close, she lets out a moan she can no longer hold in. She may know his body and how to pull all the pleasure she can from it but Faustus knows hers too.

Faustus moves his mouth to her other breast, teasing her nipple with his tongue and sucking at her. It sends an immediate jolt to her core, the day is starting to fade finally.

Zelda jerks his face up and brushes her tongue across his lips. His mouth opens and his tongue brushed against hers. Her nipples brush against the fabric of his shirt, she wishes it was his chest but they’re already too far carried away. His hands grip her waist tightly, his nails digging in, and he pulls her to his lap.

She wriggles in his lap, his cock pressing into the fabric of her skirt. He moans into her mouth, and she wriggles even more. His hands grip her waist even harder, and pulls her so she can straddle him. Their hands are frenzied. His hands push up her skirt, and he brings his hands back to her waist, guiding her over his trouser-clad cock. Back and forth and back and forth. It feels so good, his hardness between her legs. She needs more. Her gloves fumble with his pants and she grunts as she tries to pull them from her arms. Of course she chose these gloves. Terribly inconvenient but her favorites nonetheless.

Faustus brings his hands to her arms and shimmies them down her arms and pulls them from her as Zelda continues to rock against him. Her hands now able to unfasten his pants and her hands dive in to grab his cock. Her hands glide over him, and he starts to moan in her ear. She lifts up, and glides the tip of Faustus’s cock against her entrance. She does it again, and Faustus grunts and shoves her down on his cock. His hands at her ass, insistent, and pulls her into a rhythm. She likes when he’s impatient, it reminds her of her power over him.

His breathing is heavy in her ear, and he pants her name out. It’s a balm, temporary maybe, but a balm nonetheless. “Zelda, Zelda, Zelda, come for me, wife.” His thumb brushes against her core, and his other hand is still gripping her ass as she rides him.

Her arms are slung around his shoulders, her lips are right by his ear, she’s panting as hard as he is. And with a hard thrust and brush of his fingers she’s crying out on top of him, her body shaking, a whisper of “Faustus” on her lips, into his ear and it’s all it takes to have him follow.

“Fuck,” he grunts out and bites down on her neck as he rides out the rest of his orgasm. They stop moving against one another but his hands are still dug into her, keeping her in place atop his lap. She rests her head against his shoulder. She was tired before and even more so now. Mentally and physically exhausted.

She rests her eyes, for how long she doesn’t know, Faustus doesn’t move an inch. He’s still holding her against him. She only moves from him when the air turns cold and her neck becomes uncomfortable at this angle.

She stands and rights herself with a wave of her hand, Faustus does the same and they look as though they did before they boarded — immaculate though Zelda feels absolutely ruined in the best way possible. An ache between her legs is the only thing she really feels as she settles in beside Faustus again, sated, and relaxed as she drifts off to sleep.

She wakes sometime later to Judas fussing awake, Faustus is asleep at her shoulder and she moves gently over to Judas. She’s quick to change his diaper, and rock him in her arms. He eventually falls back asleep, his eyes heavy once more. Her attention had been on the babe in her arms the entire time and didn’t notice Faustus had awoken until she turned to put Judas back in his bassinet. She doesn’t know how long he’s been awake. They share a small smile and she settles Judas in, with a brush to his cheek.

She returns to sit beside Faustus and as she’s crossing her legs to settle in for the rest of the flight, Faustus moves to hold her hand, a tender and rare moment between them. “I meant what I said, Zelda. You’re a hellsend. A good mother to Judas, one he deserves.”

She’s quiet and doesn’t acknowledge his words with anything other than her hand still in his, and her head on his shoulder.

Maybe today was an anomaly, maybe all would be fine, tomorrow was a new day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SpellwoodManor on Tumblr. Xx


	6. Needle and A Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is long. This is toxic.
> 
> Fasten your seatbelts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.
> 
> Title from Needle and A Knife by Tennis.
> 
> Other songs inspired this, all Tennis.
> 
> My Better Self  
> Origins  
> Please Don’t Ruin This For Me  
> My Emotions Are Blinding

Her vows rang in her head. Of course he didn’t have to recite them. Their religion had always favored the men, just like all other religions. Witches had more autonomy especially with their wants, desires, and bodies. And yet, in so many ways, they didn’t.

She’s laying in the tub, washing the day from her body, though really it’s the day before. It’s still day, she’s not had a proper evening in awhile. The days have run together, the lead-up to the wedding, the wedding itself. They had landed and Faustus hit the ground running will all sorts of matters to attend to as a High Priest — Council meetings and the election of a new Anti-Pope. She wishes he was here so she wasn’t alone with her thoughts. The steam still rises off of the bath, she has nothing planned, unsure of when Faustus will return. She’s unsure of what to do, now that she’s finally here and has to deal with her family.

She can’t bear to think about the days leading up to this moment. Her goal had been to right her family, and find whatever power she could with Faustus. And now she thinks of Ambrose locked away in a cell in the Academy. Surely she can convince Faustus to reconsider his punishment, that his actions weren’t like Ambrose and he must have been under some sort of enchantment. Faustus was the one to give Ambrose his newfound freedom in the first place.

Sabrina was another matter as from day one she’s hated Faustus. There’s been no enchantment with her. It’s her ingrained stubbornness and ego. Zelda can relate, who else had she learned those from? But at sixteen she’s completely uncontrollable, rarely listening to her or Hilda. She suspects that Sabrina has lost almost all respect for her with her dealings with Faustus. She’s not seen the hard work Zelda, and Hilda for that matter, have put into protecting the family and doing everything that needs to be done to uphold the Spellman family name and their legacy. Sabrina has no idea of the witch world, and where they used to stand. They have fallen, far. This marriage was one of the quickest ways to stand them up again, if it had not been for the cascading events of the wedding.

She hopes that she can catch Faustus in a good moment, maybe this evening, their first night together here and finally talk about it. They’ve both avoided it, the only time to talk had truly been the flight and well, it had been too much to bring it up then. But now, it feels pressing. He’s not a merciful person, she knows. She’s also not one to beg. And now she hopes they both have what it takes to right this.

She sighs, and feels like crying suddenly. Had it not been for Sabrina and Ambrose she wouldn’t be here in the bath in Rome with tears in her eyes. She reaches for a cigarette — her holder is nowhere to be seen but never mind. She needs the hit of nicotine to feel like herself again. The window by the bath is open, and while it’s cold out she doesn’t mind it. She’s ensconced in the hot bath with smoke filling her lungs and warming her from within.

She finishes her cigarette and it gives her the jolt she needs. She submerges herself underneath the water, she stays under until her lungs can’t take it anymore, and finally washes her entire body. A new start to the day. She will busy herself with the city, check-in on Judas who is occupied with his nanny, and she will make herself perfect for Faustus and for herself. She will right the family. She will do all of the things expected of her, and maybe, just maybe, she will get to enjoy some of her life somewhere in there.

Rome, even in late winter, is stunning but she’s looking forward to coming back when the air is warmer. Back when she used to summer here in her youth. Smoking and drinking on rooftops and terraces, and gelato running down her hands under the heat of the day. She even remembers Faustus’s hands brushing against her body and taking her in an alley. She smiles before remembering that it was the summer before they had truly broken off whatever they had, Edward’s fault.

She stands from the bath, dries herself, and carefully gets ready. She selects something a little less severe but unsure of when Faustus will return, lingerie underneath to kill. They have a dinner tonight, and she will change once more for that but for her wandering around the city she chooses a black turtleneck and cigarette pants and throws on her fur. Thankful for a city as chic as Rome to dress for.

She stops in to check on Judas. He is cooing at his nanny, who is speaking to him in Italian. So far it’s been his favorite language to hear, so melodic that of course he loves it.

She leaves them be and heads out. Her walk never-ends, she’s enjoying the sights and sounds too much. Nostalgia rushes at her and she’s taking it all in. She stops in several shops to pick up little gifts for everyone, and finds Faustus’s cologne he used to wear years and years ago. It’s rare, only found in this shop, and she smiles as she tucks it into her coat.

She stops in a cafe, has a bite to eat, and people watch. Her thoughts turn again to the family as she sees a little blonde-haired girl with her mother. Zelda lights a cigarette and moves to leave. Maybe prayer and a confession will do her well.

She feels at home here. The church forever a comfort. A place for solace, penance, and dedication. She wants absolution. She won’t get it, she doubts she’ll ever get peace. Maybe other witches but not her. Not with her lot in life. She’ll take all the solace her religion has to offer her, and all she can take to bolster her. She kneels in a pew, praying to Satan himself, dedicating herself to him, as thoughts of everything runs through her head. Prayer is her way of releasing it all, she’s doing her best, as always, but sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough. Sometimes she doesn’t feel like enough.

The church is hushed as she leaves, she sees few people aside from herself, and the day has passed before her. She returns to their quarters, checks again on Judas, who is now napping peacefully in the adjoining room, and shrugs out of her coat. She sets Faustus’s cologne on his bedside table.

She’s due to call Hilda but she waits. She hopes she can call with good news. With news that fixes the mess at home. To unburden Hilda.

She undresses, slips in the bath once more. It’s a true luxury to have this time to herself, she rarely gets a lengthy bath at home. She closes her eyes and stays until the water turns cold, not wanting a charm so she knows to get out.

She sits in front of the vanity, fixing invisible issues — her hair, her makeup. Her dress for this evening is hanging but it will be hours before they’re required to arrive.

She chooses her black silk robe alone to lounge in on the bed, as she picks up her Satanic Verses. She’s lost in reading when the door to their suite opens. She sees Faustus rush in, his face unmistakably happy.

She can’t help but smile back, “What is it?”

He doesn’t say anything as he comes to her bedside and pulls her into a deep kiss. She responds in kind. He moves over her onto the bed and presses his body against hers. He’s still in his most formal of robes from the Council meeting. He finally pulls his mouth from hers, and he’s still smiling.

Her hands are at his collar where she had been holding him to her, she pulls him in closer, a questioning look in her eyes.

He smiles as he speaks, his hand brushes her hair to the side, “You are now the wife of the Anti-Pope.”

She sits up, “What?” He only sits back on his heels, smiles, and nods.

The rush of lust that flows through her is incredible. She lunges at Faustus and straddles his fully-dressed self as she places kisses at his neck. Faustus, for all of his faults, and there were many, had been the most dedicated priest she knew. It’s all he ever wanted, more power and more responsibility within the church. It’s now that she realizes her bet and gamble has paid off. The wife of the Anti-Pope. There was no higher position in the church for women.

She sits atop Faustus and brings his hand to her lips and kisses it. He sits up at her action, and brushes her robe open. She’s completely naked beneath it and Faustus’s breath hitches. She’s thankful she’s in next to nothing. She wants him inside her more than ever. She can feel his power radiating off of him, and she wants more for herself. She wants to revel in actually being right, for once.

Faustus’s hands trail up and down her arms and finally move to cup her face as he moves to kiss her. The look on his face is soft, softer than she’s seen. Suddenly it seems like things have turned around for them. She hopes that’s the case.

Like Lilith before her, she has now been made worthy of him. She has given herself to Faustus, and he made her not just his wife but now the wife of the Anti-Pope.

The kiss started slowly but now the rush of emotions have hit her, and his hard cock beneath her pulls her back to her physical need and want. She pulls away and Faustus’s face is clouded with lust, he looks animalistic. Good, she wants to celebrate.

He moves and pins her to the bed, his hands at her wrists and he presses his body into hers. She groans at the contact, it’s not enough in his fully dressed state. “Please…” she says.

His grin is wicked, he loves her writhing and needy underneath him she knows. She smiles as she tries to gain more of his weight on top of her, “Please your unholy eminence.” She says it quietly, her hands gripping his jacket, and Faustus’s eyes flicker and he immediately grinds himself down into her.

She’s pulling at his shirt, wishing his flesh was beneath her hands. Clearly he thinks the same and his clothes vanish, she lets out a sigh.

He pushes into her with a hard thrust and sets a hard pace atop her. His hips are snapping into her, his eyes are almost black and she grips his ass with her hands. The noise of him fucking her is filling the room, it sounds obscene, the bed is shaking below them and hitting the wall. He’s pouring all of his energy into her and his power feels raw. The glass beside the bed shatters, from falling off the table or from their magics she doesn’t know.

She’s meeting him thrust for thrust, his arms are behind her shoulders, holding her close to him. The room is hot, their bodies are slick. She’s crying out below him, a mixture of his name and urging him on to fuck her harder. He doesn’t disappoint. She feels like she’ll break apart at some point, or maybe the bed will first. The slapping of skin upon skin and the heated room makes her feel slightly dizzy. She pulls Faustus’s face down to hers and her lips are insistent when she’s not panting.

She’s close, and she knows he is. This pace was already unsustainable considering how long he’s been fucking her, she doesn’t want it to end but she’s so close now. She doesn’t want the after, she wishes she could live in this relationship forever in bed with him.

Faustus brings his hand between them and brushes her clit, it’s all it takes to send her over the edge. She had been so wound up and now she’s completely coming apart under him. She cries out his name, her walls gripping him over and over again, her legs shaking at his sides. She’s dizzier than before. Her head swims, and her legs automatically clench behind him, pulling him in as close as she can.

He cries out her name, as loud as she’s heard him, and the bed stops creaking underneath him as his orgasm washes over him. His movements stop but she feels him emptying himself inside her. He pulls back just slightly to see his cock inside her. Her legs are still slightly shaking and he’s admiring his handiwork. He pulls out just slightly and pushes back into her. They will have all night minus this dinner but Zelda can’t help but enjoy the sight of him, unable to help himself. His animalistic need for her is clear. It’s to her advantage.

She’s completely spent and he’s already eyeing her again, his cock still inside her, his come dripping out of her. He pulls out completely and grips his cock and runs it over her. He pushes into her again. She’s not yet over the aftershocks from her prior orgasm but his insatiability has overtaken her too.

He sets a slower pace this time and it’s not long again before they both reach their orgasms once more. The bed didn’t break apart, neither did she, though it feels as though she has. Faustus stills and eventually catches his breath and moves beside her.

She wants to hear all about the Council meeting, as a High Priest he forever loves an enraptured audience, and he has one. She lays her head on his shoulder as he talks and at some point she drifts off to sleep.

She’s awoken later by a door opening and she finds Faustus stepping out of the bathroom, having just showered. A towel wrapped around his waist and steam flowing from the other room. She sits up, holding a silk sheet to her, and Faustus grins.

“We have time, you should sleep more.” She shakes her head and rises from the bed. She’s heading not for her third bath of the day but a shower, though she longs for yet another soak.

She exits and he’s just finished shaving in the vanity mirror, a bit of shaving cream still at his neck. Her robe is back in place and she brushes against him as she cleans it off with a towel. He smiles at her in the mirror, and she can’t help but smile back.

He turns around to her, “Thank you for the cologne. I didn’t realize how much I had missed it until I saw it here.” He reaches a hand into her hair and kisses her perfect red lips. She’s thankful for a vanity spell, not a hair or lipstick out of place. Not after this afternoon. She only imagines the evening ahead of them will stoke his ego and lust even more.

She moves to the vanity anyway, though she has less to do, she busies herself with perfume, lotion, and teasing Faustus, who catches her eye in the mirror every so often.

He walks over, fully dressed and devilishly handsome in a tuxedo. His face turns suddenly serious. She turns around, and finishes lotioning her legs. She plans on wearing her stockings but she can’t help but tease Faustus with her bare legs. He stares at her, face softening, and then his eyes move towards her face again, and his serious expression is back.

“Zelda, we have to talk about Ambrose. And to a lesser extent, Sabrina.”

She sighs. The glory of the wedding, honeymoon, and Faustus’s installment as Anti-Pope has worn off and now it’s down to this. She suspects this is the best moment for it. He couldn’t have been happier this afternoon. He’s probably never been as happy as he was today. Maybe he would be lenient.

“I agree.” She’s anxious to hear what he has to say.

“I find that we must deal with this swiftly. I can’t have my very own coven undermining me, especially now that I’m the Anti-Pope. The church is already on rocky ground with the murder of the last, within my own Academy no less. The Council felt I handled things smoothly and hope to see that I continue to do so. Which brings me to Ambrose.”

He sighs, takes a breath, “Upon our return, he will be executed.”

She’s silent and her eyes swim with tears. “You’re the Anti-Pope, can’t you do something? Can’t we figure out some way around this? Ambrose would have no reason to kill the Anti-Pope. He must have certainly been enchanted.”

Faustus’s voice is stern, “Regardless of even that, he tried to kill me at our wedding. Murder of the prior Anti-Pope, and attempted murder of me. Even if I could pardon him, I wouldn’t. I don’t know why you’re giving him the benefit of the doubt when you were right beside me when he attacked. Had it not been for Prudence he would have killed me.”

“But surely you don’t think he was in his right mind. He has been loyal to you ever since you lessened his house arrest.”

“I don’t know why you’re defending him, Zelda. You’re defending him against me. You pledged your loyalty to ME.” His face is angry. He turns and stands in front of the fireplace, only now she notices it has been lit.

“You have it.” She stands and walks over to him. He’s looking into the fire, and she places a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t. If I did, you would agree and let me handle this.”

She huffs, “And leave my family to you? To allow you to murder Ambrose?”

He turns and grips her hands in his, his grip tightening on her wrists. There will be bruises, she can feel it. “Even now you refer to them as your family. WE are family, Zelda. Me and you. And Judas. Where is your loyalty to us?”

She tries to shrug out of his grip but fails. Tries to twist her wrists but it only ends up hurting her more. “I am loyal to us. YOU are choosing to do this. You won’t listen to reason. I know you had the Anti-Pope murdered, of course you did. I didn’t mind but you dragged Ambrose into it. This is your responsibility. He’s not another one of your lackeys, he’s my nephew. In fact, he is YOUR nephew as well.”

He lets her arms go, and she stops herself from rubbing them.

Night has fallen and the fire in the grate is reflecting off of the mirrors and the windows in their suite. His eyes are burning into hers and she’s fuming. She can’t help but continue.

“Did you not in fact tell me that Prudence herself, your very own flesh and blood, tried to murder you the night before our wedding? No consequences for her? Nothing other than being made a Blackwood?”

He storms closer to her, “There were no witnesses other than myself. Do you even want me to succeed, Zelda? You cannot control your family. I could lose my position if I were soft, or continued to let them undermine me. I have to do what you cannot.”

“You were the one controlling Ambrose, Faustus. This is your own mess and had you had any subtlety or loyalty to me, you wouldn’t have dragged him into this. This is your mess. Ambrose is the last witness to this, and you propose that I agree to allow you to murder him?” Her anger rises even further. Has she not always been clear about what her family is to her?

He sighs, “I knew this would be difficult for you. I knew I didn’t have your loyalty when you pledged it. You’re loyal to the Spellmans to a fault. What have they ever done for you? Anything good? Supportive? You gave Edward your blind loyalty even in the face of him marrying a mortal and yet HE refused me YOUR hand in marriage. We could have built a whole life together by now, instead of it just starting. Sabrina defies you at every turn, and yet you’re quick to forgive and forget. You’ve done nothing but try for them and where is their loyalty to you? Mine is with you, and you alone. You may not see my loyalty to you because it does not extend to your family, but you have it.”

He takes a breath, “Let me take care of this. For you. For us.”

His anger seems to have dissipated and he’s holding her hands in his, softly now. Her wrists are still sore.

She drops her hands from his. “No,” she whispers. She’s surprised she’s said it. She isn’t sure she did until she sees Faustus’s face turn into a rage. A window pane breaks. He turns from her and pours himself a drink at the bar, and downs it immediately.

“I may be a Blackwood now but I was born a Spellman, have been a Spellman all of my days. I will not let you ruin them. Ruin us.”

“You won’t like what comes next then.” She wants and needs a cigarette. Needs something to break this tension. She’s now alone. No Spellmans, and no Faustus in her side. She’s alone with the highest ranking official in the church, and it’s her husband.

She doesn’t want to plead and cry. It isn’t her but it’s all she wants to do. She manages not to. Her voice turns haughty. “You could have found a solution to this, Faustus. With me. With my help. As your wife. Your ego has gotten in the way. If you wanted to build a life with me, then you would know that my family was non-negotiable.”

He’s silent. His stare goes right through her, his face still in a rage. She should have worn a protection charm. Now she feels terribly exposed, and stupid. So terribly stupid. So wrong.

“What are you going to do then? With me? With the Spellmans? Kill us all?” She says it, and it feels like the wind is knocked out of her. Is this it?

“No.” He answers quickly. “Ambrose Spellman will be executed. Sabrina will be dealt with. Your sister will be fine, as will you.”

He pours another drink though he doesn’t take a sip as she speaks, “You think that we will all just let you? You underestimate us. Women. Witches. Spellmans. We will be your downfall.”

The glass shatters in his hand. He shakes it out of his hand and speaks in his silkiest tone as he walks over to her, “You are the center of the family and without you, they will have no one to guide them. You will be by my side.”

“Hardly,” she puffs. He walks over to her again, and he brings a hand to her neck, and grips it, her breathing is slightly obstructed.

“So just me then?” She strains. He lets go.

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “I could never live without you, Zelda. You were right about one thing, wife. No other witch for me. My weakness is you. Yours is your family, therefore; mine is also your family. If I eliminate and subdue the problem then there’s nothing standing in our way. I will handle this, and you will watch, and in time, you will understand.”

He lets her go, he turns. Her mind is running. She’s trying to think of what to do, anything. She’s tempted to lock herself away but she hopes she can talk him out of this plan, whatever it is. She walks to the vanity to grab a cigarette, she hopes it helps her mind focus. She can’t think of a time where they fought like this, or talked like this. This is why their relationship, or whatever it was, had been based purely in physicality.

He moves to the wardrobe, opens the door, and pulls out a box. He sets it down on the vanity in front of her, and she sees it’s a music box. Her body goes cold. She drops the cigarette.

“A Caligari spell, Faustus? I’d rather die.” She looks at his reflection in the mirror, and turns to face him.

“No. I will take care of this for us, for you. You will not get in the way, and when it’s finished we can continue on with our lives. I will be the Anti-Pope, the meddling Spellmans will not get in the way. We will have our children, and raise them. Just as we always should have been able to do.”

She feels like she’s about to vomit. He grips her waist, “I will not watch you die protecting the Spellmans. They’ve done nothing for you. I can give you everything. Are you not tired of all the taking, Zelda?”

She shakes her head, “I give to my family freely. You, Faustus, are taking everything from me. Everything I have. I will not give you my life. I will not bear your children.”

Her eyes well up as she speaks, and she wants to curse herself for being so weak. She was supposed to protect and fix the family and she is failing yet again. To imagine that she would bring children into this realm with him, or that she even considered doing so. She can’t stop her body from shaking.

“You will, and the only reason I’m doing this delicately is because I do care for you, and you may in fact already be with child. My child. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She can’t help the tears spilling over, she’s unable to breathe.

Finally she catches her breath, “I refuse to stand here and let you do this to me.”

She makes for the bathroom door, and as she’s about to turn the handle she hears him say, “But it’s already been done.”

She walks over to him, grips him by his neck, hopefully cutting off some of his oxygen, “What did you say?”

“It’s already done, Zelda. I did it while you were sleeping. I thought it would be better to place it when you were more docile. I don’t want to do this. I have to. In time you will see that this is for us. All of us.” As he rasps out the words she thinks she’s never hated anyone more.

She shoves him back into the vanity mirror, shattering it. He does nothing in return. His eyes flash but he doesn’t make a move to get up from the shards of glass. She moves closer to him, she’s about to sweep the music box onto the floor. Hopefully breaking the curse when it falls. But her fingers alight on a small sliver of glass, and she grips it in her hand, it cuts somewhat, but it won’t hurt her as much as it will hurt him. He deserves to die for this.

He’s quicker than her, and as she’s about to bury it into his chest, his hand closes around hers tightly. The shard digs into her hand and it’s cutting, blood dripping, until she finally gives up and lets it fall. She cries out. He stands, his hand still holding hers. Her clenched fist pouring blood down her wrist and arm.

“She won’t be me. She may look like me but that will be the end of the similarities.”

“I know,” he says. “It’s temporary though.”

His hand lets go of hers, and she slaps him and spits in his face. “You’re barbaric.”

And with that, he doesn’t respond, only turns, and opens the music box. She freezes, he body won’t respond to her, it’s Faustus’s now.

Her thoughts are still running, and she’s aware of him in front of her again. He wipes his face with his pocket silk, and places his hands at her shoulders, brushing the black silk robe from her. “Now, let’s get you dressed for dinner, shall we?” And he places a kiss to her cheek.

She wishes her body would revolt.

She meant what she said. She would have preferred death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon is so hard. I only somewhat regret starting this series. I plan to write a bit more up until the end of Part II. Send me AU and/or one shots requests of these two on my Tumblr, SpellwoodManor. I’ll update those in Hellsend. Xx


	7. The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returned from the honeymoon. 
> 
> A rough read ahead.

————

If her body would have cooperated with her in any way, bile would have risen in her throat. Her face would be the perfect mixture of anger and sadness. It would be a mixture of all she felt. Embarrassment. Shame. Stupid. And yet as she looked in the mirror, she only saw her smiling insipid face glaring back at her. You could tell her mind didn’t meet the smile, there was not a sparkle like there was when she was truly happy. But those who didn’t know her that well would never know.

She wondered if Faustus noticed. If this living doll he’s made is satisfying him. She wants to bang on the mirror, break it, scream, have a cigarette, have a drink but all she does it smile back at her reflection. Her hands don’t even budge. She had always been so in tune with her body, used it, worked it, and it had not failed her. Now it was Faustus’s. 

The honeymoon passed by quickly. While she was aware of every waking moment, it slipped from her regularly. As if she was in a haze. She was mentally there but she could check out since her mind needed nothing to connect to. She was just present, things happened to her. Once in awhile she would actually check-in but mostly it was too upsetting. Her reflection haunted her. If she hated anyone more than Faustus in this moment, it was herself. For believing this marriage was of equals and would work out. For not fighting back enough. For thinking she wouldn’t have to. For stupidly, trusting Faustus. Another wife eclipsed by a husband. Another powerful woman shadowed by a mediocre man. 

She knows that Faustus thinks he’s done the right thing and that he wants her to one day forgive and absolve him of this moment in time. He’s said as much, in the night, when she pretends to sleep, when she tries to will her body to get up and leave.

There will be no forgiveness. He’s used her. She wouldn’t mind, it was her plan too, afterall. But she thought they’d at least use each other. Give and take, at the very least.

He’s taken far more. He’s almost stopped touching her completely. He resumed their relationship after the spell, as if nothing happened but one night it changed.

He undressed his living doll ever so slowly, Zelda wasn’t sure if this was a Barbie costume change, or something else. But the whispered words at her skin and the reverence in which he spoke to her made her aware that he was trying to talk to her — the Zelda inside this body. She had no words or actions of her own, only that of the spell. And as soon as an “I love you,” fell upon his lips at her neck, did her mind reel with anger. Of course he took this time, this moment to say it. As if it somehow fixed everything, or made her understand. He had not acted in love, he had weaponized it.

She heard her voice immediately respond with an, “I love you too.” Faustus had looked up at her immediately, smiled and as quickly as his face was overjoyed did it turn to anger. He knew she had not actually said it. 

“Fuck,” he screamed and threw a sparkling clean crystal ashtray, and it shattered against a wall. 

Her body moved to clean it up, “Clumsy me,” her voice spoke. It only angered Faustus more. 

Finally Zelda felt like just maybe she enjoyed this moment. He had taken from her so many things, and in this moment, she also got to take from him. He would not hear her whisper endearments or any words with genuine feeling. He had even taken an “I love you.” She thought, perhaps, one day, she might have uttered the words and meant them.

He stopped touching her almost completely, except for gentlemanly gestures. This would also be his punishment. 

—————

He stared at Zelda, or really the body that Zelda inhabited. They used to be so in sync, her and her body. Him and her. Their bodies together. And now it’s just a facsimile. Her smiles don’t reach her eyes. Her endearments ring false, he knows she doesn’t mean them. Not with her put under like this. He thought he could make her see sense. Make her understand his position and what he was doing for the both of them. He even unraveled his deepest secret that he, Faustus Blackwood, had loved her. He thought it would unlock her, that just maybe the Zelda within her body would stop fighting so hard against him, against the spell. That even though she was still under the spell, she would participate. Participate enough to be believable. Smiles would reach her eyes. The words she spoke would somehow connect with the Zelda he knew, not the body in front of him.

Her immediate response of, “I love you,” left him angry. He had taken it from himself. Taken the moment away forever. He knew she heard it. Her body’s response to parrot it back to him felt like a slap in the face. He wishes she were present to actually slap him. He thought her being subdued would bring them both some peace but now he’s found himself even angrier. He can’t even touch her, and lose himself in her. It isn’t her. He would undo the spell but he’s in too far. He has to play the long-game. Settle matters here, and settle matters at home. Let her see how well he fixed everything for them. And then maybe she would return to him. Maybe they could return to how they used to be.

—————

She’s released from the spell not soon after returning home. Thank Satan for Hilda, and Sabrina. Her hands immediately went to a cigarette and a glass of liquor to finally settle her. A week without had been too much to bear. Much of the week had been too much. She needed all she could to stay alert, because now she had to act. There was no fading in and fading out. She was ever-present. And she needed to find a way in which to deal with matters on her own.

Faustus had been busy with Sabrina and Ambrose, and Zelda breathed a sigh of relief for them both when Sabrina somehow pulled it off. She can’t get into Sabrina’s problems just yet with Faustus’s increasingly terrible behavior. Sabrina could clearly handle herself, the repercussions would have to come later, when she could finally be herself once again. At least Ambrose was safe. Sabrina seemingly was too. She needed to fix herself, and the coven.

——————

She had not spent much alone time with Faustus, other than to do little items of bidding. Pouring tea, pouring a drink, a back rub, caring for Judas, and nodding at every single thing he said. He was wound tighter than she had ever seen him, and she was well aware that much of it had been recent events. But like her, he had no outlet for all of his anger. Normally they’d find themselves pressed into a wall, hidden in a closet, her riding him in his desk chair — a relief, a break, a balm from current events, but nothing. He could have picked any witch or warlock he wanted to, to lose himself in them.

But she knew he wouldn’t, and he didn’t. His somewhat bizarre loyalty to her touched her. Now that she was capable, she would use it to her advantage.

——————

He strolls by as she blows cigarette smoke out into the air. Has she smoked since the spell? He can’t remember now. He misses her. 

“Zelda, dearest, what are you doing?”

“Why, making myself beautiful for you, husband.”

Faustus watches as Zelda swiped lipstick across her lips, her eyes in mock innocence. A little heat flames within him. She looks all wrong, these dresses, the hair, the color of lipstick isn’t even her. Her cleavage alone is a dead giveaway. And yet. Her eyes look different to him. Maybe she’s done fighting. Her applying her lipstick is downright lascivious. He grins wickedly at her. 

This feels more like her. Maybe now that Ambrose is safe and sound, for now, she’s resisting less. He still has plans for the church, and too many things to deal with right now to release her fully. He doesn’t have the time to dedicate to doing it properly. But he’s glad it seems like she’s resisting less. 

She grins at him, and Satan does he need a break. Burying himself in Zelda is all her can think of now. Her hands set down the lipstick and she asks him to come over and help her with the fastening on her necklace. He smiles at the pretense. This version of Zelda doesn’t initiate anything, she’s only responsive. Things are looking up. 

—————

She knew that he’d be caught off guard if she showed any interest in him. His hand had probably been poor company. Satan knows she missed hers.

Her plan is to distract, and she hopes Hilda can get to Mesuthelah soon. 

As he unclasped her necklace, and laid it on the vanity in front of her, he unzipped the back of her dress and pushed it down her shoulders. His hands moved to her now bare breasts. She hopes Hilda is truly gone so she doesn’t have to bear witness to this.

Zelda’s body is the ultimate betrayer. She moans with his hands on her breasts, he’s always known how to touch her. Her white hot liquid hate for him is churning within her, yet his hands are too talented to be unable to enjoy it. Not when she instigated it. She reminds herself that she’s working, she’s distracting, this is something she can consent to. If she pulls any amount of pleasure from it, then so be it. 

Apparently, High Priest Barbie didn’t touch herself. What a shame.

Faustus’s learned hand would do just fine. She’d think better once she climaxed anyway. She hoped to Satan it would help Faustus too. He was becoming more of a nightmare with each passing day. 

His mouth is pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the juncture between her neck and shoulders. She sees him licking at her in the mirror before her. She hopes things move slowly for Hilda’s sake. Though she’s worried that Faustus's desire will be hard to quell. 

She turns her head up and captures his lips in a kiss. He moans against her mouth. His hands continue to massage her breasts and every so often pinches a nipple between his fingers. She stands and turns to gain better access to his mouth. His hands move to unzip the rest of her dress and he pushes it from her. 

She looks down and sees Faustus pulling down her white panties. 

White. 

For Satan’s sake. At least they were lace. 

He’s far too dressed but she’s biding time, she remembers. His fingers tease at her entrance and she’s already so wet and ready for him. She needs to remind herself for more self-loathing for later. 

“Oh Zelda,” he whispers against her, “If I had known how much you missed me, I would have touched you sooner.” He’s loving this, she knows, and she’s thankful she can roll her eyes so he can’t see.

She moans as he slips in a finger, and another. The pressure of his fingers within her feel divine. She’s moving against his hand, trying to fuck herself on it. He pulls her up and sets her on the vanity. Pulling her panties from her ankles, slipping off her shoes, and she leans back as he puts his mouth against her sex.

She releases a heavy breath, and shudders, as his mouth works his magic. His fingers are pressing within her. She’s trying not to be greedy. That’s not what a witch under this spell would do. As much as she wants to lose herself in Faustus’s hands and mouth she has to think of what would the other her do. She’s trying to think back to any of the moments she had been under the spell with Faustus’s hands on her. She believes it was mostly praise, breathy little declarations of adoration.

She would have clenched him between her legs and would have been an active participant but now she’s keeping her hands steady on the vanity. Not trusting herself to not touch herself or Faustus in a greedy way. “Yes, husband,” she breathes out. She’s tempted to roll her eyes, especially since Faustus moves more earnestly in light of her words.

He continues his ministrations and she’s close. Closer than she would normally be but her body is on edge. She grips the vanity tighter below her, and as Faustus continues to circle his fingers and suck at her she cries out. Her orgasm takes her breath away and she’s mad she cannot fully enjoy it. Cannot fully enjoy anything anymore. Faustus has ruined so many aspects of their relationship.

She remembers herself and gasps out a breathless, “Thank you, husband.”

He presses a kiss to her mouth and holds her body close to his. She backs him up against the bench at the edge of the bed. He sits and she kneels before him. He grins. Her hands are at his trousers and she pulls them and his boxers down. His hand comes up to her hair and brushes them through, pulling pins out. As she brings her mouth to his cock, she thinks he’s trying to make her look more like herself. And yet, he’s really done this to himself. She would have been here on her knees before him, like she had done countless times beforehand. But he was now incapable of making any good decisions whatsoever.

He groans and tugs at her hair as she takes him deeply in her throat. Her head and hands are working together to bring him so close to the edge, and retreating again. She wants this to last as long as it can. Faustus is moaning and breathing loudly, and she slows her movements. She looks up at him with doe eyes and she can see his struggle of not trying to come that very moment.

He brings a hand to cup her cheek and she releases her mouth around him, but her hand stays on his cock — gently twisting and applying pressure just how she knows he likes it. She rises slightly to meet his lips in a kiss. He kisses her hard, and pulls her shoulders towards him. Her hand stops moving along his cock, and she wraps her arms around his neck to return the kiss. His hands move to her ass, massaging the cheeks, and slowly maneuvering her from her standing position between his legs to sitting atop him on the bench.

She straddles his lap, not yet mounting him. Her hand moves back to his cock in between them and she kisses him as she continues her motions. Her groans into her mouth, and his nails dig into the flesh of her thighs. She lifts up and positions herself just above his cock and slowly sinks down onto it. She can’t help but close her eyes to try to enjoy the moment. Trying not to think about Faustus, who he has become — who he apparently is. 

Her hands grip his jacket, from the waist up he looks perfectly professional. She wants to ruin him. She starts to slowly rock against him and it’s torture. For both of them. Faustus’s hands come to grip her ass, and he pulls her back and forth grinding into his lap. Her stomach does the familiar flutter at his actions. It feels so good, so like things used to be. 

She grips his collar as if they’re reins and underneath her touch, his clothes melt away so she’s finally skin to skin with him. He’s warm underneath her touch, and she hooks her arms around his neck to hold on. He’s close, his hands at her ass and rocking her back and forth, and back and forth at a quicker pace. She’s close too, her eyes flutter shut, and her walls clench around him. She lets out a breath and his hands grip her tight against him for two more thrusts. He grunts out her name and he keeps his hands on her, pressing her against him as tightly as he can. She sighs against his neck, and she hears him catching his breath. 

She’s sure he will make the next move, she’s a little unsure of what to say. She settles for a gentle brush of her hands on his back. “Zelda?”

She pulls back to look at him, she plasters on a megawatt smile, all teeth, “Yes, husband?”

He looks at her for a long time, his face searching hers, smiling makes her face ache, but she keeps at it. 

“Nothing,” he whispers, he looks disappointed. He brings his lips back to hers. It’s soft, and she returns it. His tongue sweeps across her closed lips and she opens them and her tongue meets his. 

One of his hands brushes her neck and moves down to caress a breast. She didn’t expect to feel him harden again within her, his come dripping out of her, still atop his cock. The longer this lasts the better but she had not anticipated this. 

He circles his arms around her and stands up, and places them on the bed — her underneath him. They’re still connected. He brushes her hair from her face and pulls out of her. Admiring his work, no doubt. He rubs his cock in his come and pushes back inside her. She holds back a groan. 

He pulls back and pushes back in, the sound is obscene, but she’s far from caring. Her hands are laying beside her head. Normally they’re busy touching every inch of him, but she’s taking in the sight of him. He’s snapping his hips into hers and breathing deeply. His eyes are boring into hers as he fucks her. Her body is rocking with each thrust and she’s taking each one with a breathy moan. She feels her orgasm building again with his moans. She smiles ever so lightly at the thought that she’s doing this to him, and Faustus increases his thrusts. 

He continues to pound into her and her hand flutters to her chest, she can feel her heart beating faster, and she lets out a hard breath. Faustus holds her hand and moves it over her breast. “Is this what you want?” She says so innocently, even though she knows. Faustus wants to watch her touch her breasts and she’s happy to comply. 

She brings both hands to her breasts, massages them and pinches her nipples between her fingers. Faustus cries out, “Satan, Zelda,” and he grunts as his hips move even faster, she can feel him come inside her again. Her walls clench yet again, unable to stop another orgasm running through her. She’s breathless lying underneath him. His body is atop hers, tired from exertion, his breathing shallow. He’s moves beside her and brushes his hands against her body.

She’s absolutely spent, and she hopes Hilda has been in contact with the Council. She can’t keep up the charade for much longer. Faustus deserves whatever punishment he’s due for. She’s anxious to wield her own. No matter their centuries of history, no matter how good he makes her feel — he deserves punishment. 

“You look thoroughly fucked, dearest. It looks good on you. My come dripping out of you. Just as it should be.” 

He grins wickedly at her, and normally she’d find it charming but now it’s chilling. With everything — her family, the Caligari spell, Faustus’s increasingly disturbing behavior — she’s forgotten her potion. Her blood runs cold. 

His hand runs across her abdomen, and she thinks she’s going to be sick. Instead she smiles at him. This time the smile reaches her eyes, Faustus seems to notice as he smiles back. Surely he’s thinking of a family with her, and she’s thinking of the best way to murder him. Something painful. A curse, perhaps?

He rises and leaves to the bathroom. Sometime later he emerges, immaculate. Zelda continued to lay in bed, in a cloud of anger, and thoughts of retribution. She also knew to stay like this until he was officially gone. 

Finally he left after a quick kiss to her cheek, and she took a scalding hot shower to scrub every inch of her body. She wanted nothing more than to go home, bathe in her own bath, have a cigarette, and sob with a glass of liquor in hand. Soon, she told herself. Soon she would be home, doing just that. Faustus would have his comeuppance. Soon.

She redressed, and sat yet again at her vanity, applying more lipstick. As if no time had passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the comments and kudos. I very much appreciate it. Especially for a difficult series like this. Haha. “What the fuck did I get myself into?” I whisper to myself.
> 
> Looking for some justice in Part III. I hope we get it. I am so here for High Priestess Zelda Spellman. Xx
> 
> SpellwoodManor on Tumblr.


	8. Caught

She’s not terribly surprised to occupy at cell at the Academy. Only hours ago had she been underneath Faustus and in his arms. 

She’s not worried, Hilda will have been in contact with the Council, and they’ll sort through this mess. Or Hilda alone, or Sabrina, or Ambrose. Really she knew she could count on the family. It was a Spellman trait of foolhardiness. She smiles a bit at the thought, and scowls slightly at the wedding ring on her finger. 

As she’s sitting alone, on the floor, with her thoughts in the damp chamber and the door clatters open. She hopes for a reprieve but instead finds a stern looking Faustus. She doesn’t budge from the floor. 

He holds his hand out to her, despite the clear rage on his face. She ignores it. “No, thank you.” She’d rather rot in here than take his hand. She feels like she sold herself once, she won’t be doing it again. 

“Fine,” he says and whips back his hand to meet his other behind his back. He paces in the small space, trying to start a sentence several times. She’s enjoying his lack of composure, he’s usually more calculated, and calm. Like her. His apoplectic rage will be cathartic for her. She deserves this. Deserves to yell back at him.

He finally opens his mouth once more and manages a, “Why?”

“Because I promised Constance that I would look after her children. One witch to another.” She’s twisting her rings on her hand as she speaks, looking at him directly.

His face twists in anger, “What do you think I would have done to her? The baby. My daughter.” He turns around, away from her, he can’t even look at her.

Zelda huffs and laughs a little, “You always wanted a son, Faustus. An heir. I’ve seen how you treat Prudence, you didn’t recognize her as yours until very recently, until it suited you. Until she did your bidding. A legitimate daughter born before your heir, I couldn’t think of the consequences. I am their Night Mother, it is my duty to protect them. Even from you.”

He turns back to face her, his face questioning, “And yet you still married me?”

She sighs. “Yes.” She had wondered the same of herself. Her actions that day, whisking Leticia away, and yet continuing her affair with Faustus. She tried not to dwell on it but it never made much sense to her either. 

“Why?” He asked. He looked angry, and surprised. 

She remains quiet. She herself doesn’t quite know herself but it’s easy to say, “For power.” And so she does.

He smirks, and shakes his head in disbelief. 

She wants to change the subject,“What will you do with her? With the twins?”

He smiles, “They both will have the best education money can buy, and on their 16th birthday, they will marry, and carry on the Blackwood legacy.”

She rises from the floor, stands, and slaps him hard across the face. He made no motion to stop her. “You’re a monster, Faustus,” she hisses at him. She thinks she’s going to be sick. Prudence not only betrayed Zelda but her very own sister. Zelda managed to save Leticia from possible death, but her fate was still bleak.

Faustus grabs Zelda’s wrists in his hands, he steps closer to her, “Oh my darling, but I’m your monster. And you are mine.” She huffs out a breath. He continues, “Are you not as well? Stealing my daughter? Doing what you think is best to protect her? Making decisions for her? Keeping her safe? Is this not EXACTLY what I did for you, Zelda?” 

“She is a child. I’m considered a guardian. You have stripped me of my dignity and my consent. The two are wildly different, Faustus. What’s next? Are you going to keep me locked away in here? Or kill me, and get it over with?” She still knows in her heart she will get out of here but she wants to know the full extent of his plans, his betrayal.

“No. I couldn’t possibly kill the mother of my child.” His hands move from hers and caresses her stomach. She backs away. His hands fall from her. Her face is deathly pale.

“I will not have your child, Faustus. If even there is one.” Her voice is stern, inside she’s faltering but her voice thankfully behaves.

“I know you too well to believe that, Zelda. And I think you know why you married me.” He steps closer to her, his cold hand on her cheek. His eyes search hers, “You know, in the depths of your heart. You can’t bear to say it. Not now. But you know why.”

He slowly retreats his hand and steps away from her. 

Her insides are churning and she needs a miracle. She needs to leave. She needs to be home. She’s suddenly feeling claustrophobic and like she can’t breathe. She can’t go under the spell again. She cannot be chained to this madman for the rest of their days.

“Let me go. I’d prefer death than this.” She gestures at herself. 

“Never,” he walks back to her and holds her upper arms in his hands. He’s holding her tightly. Her body is tense. She’s never been hit before. She wonders if this is the moment. She flinches as he moves his face closer to hers.

“Were you not just leaning into my touch and coming underneath me hours ago? And now you reel from me? I could never do anything to hurt you.”

“We both know that’s not true, Faustus. You’ve hurt me more that you could possibly imagine. As for fucking you hours ago, truth be told, I was buying time so Hilda could speak with the Council about your abomination of our religion. I don’t expect to be here much longer. I don’t expect to be your wife much longer.”

He’s suddenly angry at the tables being turned. He releases her arms, and walks away. Good. She had not planned to say anything, but she needed something to make her head stop spinning. Something to regain some ground. She was sick of being in this inferior position. 

He’s pacing, and thinking. His shoes clicking on the stone of the cell, “You’ll always be my wife. You’ll always be connected to me. The Council may come. Let them. They won’t believe you over me. I have complete control over this coven. They look to me for guidance. Like you used to.” He looks at her and he suddenly looks sad.

“I love you, Zelda. I wish you knew that.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t love me, Faustus. You wouldn’t have done this to me if you did. Look at me. LOOK AT ME!” She screams at him.

His face does its best to remain passive but she knows he sees. He knows he has mangled her. 

He turns to leave, his face to the door. “I’ll move you back to our quarters after I deal with the Council,” he nearly whispers. She knows he’s thinking of the Caligari. It’s the only way he would trust her to return to their quarters. 

The air in her lungs is about to leave her again. She’s determined that tears won’t spill from her eyes while he stands there. She hopes someone, anyone will come in time, before he sets the spell again.

The heavy clanking of the door opens and shuts and he’s gone. She breathes out a sigh of relief, and kneels to say a prayer.

—————

When the door opens again she’s calm. Or appears to be. She will not go down without a fight. Will not be put under another Caligari spell. 

She’s surprised to see Prudence. But she’s pleased that somewhere her words had gotten to her. 

As she leaves, she’s quick to teleport directly outside of the Spellman House. Relief floods her. She opens the front door, and it feels like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion, and final chapter, will be next. Thank you all for reading, and commenting. It’s been difficult to write this (ahhhhh!) but I was determined to finish it out. Xx
> 
>  
> 
> Please feel free to send me prompts for Hellsend, my one shot series. Send them to me on Tumblr — SpellwoodManor


	9. Wounded Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of Private Lives. The canon compliant(ish) take on Part II of The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina.

Zelda stepped up to the altar. The church was dark and the congregants, her congregants, were hushed. Excitement filled the air. Sermons had been like this ever since she stepped into the role of High Priestess. The Spellmans stepped in to save as many members of their as they could. They were now an exalted family. 

The rush of magic that Zelda felt every time she stood on stage to address the group had felt incredible. It felt right. The Church of Night had indeed had a revolution, it was still happening, but not a member of her flock questioned the change from Satan himself, to Lilith. She was pleased that it had been a smooth transition.

And now, she had news for them. Or rather, she had news from Lilith to deliver. The Church was quiet but electric as she spoke, “Witches and Warlocks, Lilith has spoken. This will be our very last Feasts of Feasts. I know some of you may be sad to see the end of such a long-held tradition. But our line is dying out. We especially know this from recent events. We are still recovering, and picking up the pieces. We are rebuilding, but we will persevere, as we have for centuries. This may be the last Feasts of Feasts, but it is a new chapter within the Church of Night. Lilith herself has blessed us with a gift. There will be no lottery. There will be no drawing of papers.”

The coven murmurs amongst themselves, some move towards the edge of their seat. Their eyes look towards Zelda, who seems serene, and the congregation quiets once more.

Her voice rings clear in the sacred church, “This year’s queen, will in fact be a king. Our King of the Feast, witches and warlocks, is none other than our very own Faustus Blackwood.”

The crowd is pleased, with clapping and chatter, and suddenly turns quiet as Zelda holds out her hand and Faustus takes it.

She raises his hand in the air with hers, “All Hail, Faustus Blackwood, King of the Feast.”

She turns her face to look at him. His expression is the same, how he usually is — smirking, pleased, and haughty. He’s playing his part well and for that she’s thankful. He said he would, and yet she’s still surprised.

————

Prudence and Ambrose had a mission, for themselves, for Zelda, for Lilith, and mainly, for Judas and Leticia. It had not been difficult to find Faustus. He would be completely unable to live without creature comforts, he was no Lilith, a hunter and gatherer. Faustus had never gone without, so tracing him to an old friend in France proved quite easy. The hard tasks were instead to only take Judas and Leticia, and leave Faustus be, unharmed. Lilith had plans for him, at the time Zelda was unaware but she trusted Lilith would get his comeuppance. 

So when the time came, Lilith told Zelda what was to be done. It was surprising how well it would fit together, it seemed an honor but many who took part of the Feast of Feasts knew it had not been. Many knew the terror of giving up their mothers, sisters, wives, aunts, nieces, and daughters to the lottery. Many would see this as a punishment veiled in a high holiday. This would do nicely.

She had sent Ambrose and Prudence to finally retrieve him from France. The timing was her part and Lilith’s so she had time to prepare herself for seeing him. He, however, did not.

She sat in her office, looking rather bored than anxious to see him, and at the knock at her door, she sat up a little straighter.

Faustus was brought in by Ambrose and Prudence, with not a mark on him. She was impressed, she had told them as much, but she wasn’t sure they’d listen. Maybe they hadn’t and cleaned up their work, either way, she didn’t mind.

He looked the same, immaculately dressed, his hair slicked back, and sat as if he was holding court, as if he had command in the room. When they both know it wasn’t true.

He smirked at her as Prudence shoved him in a chair in front of Zelda’s desk. She dismissed them with a flick of her hand and they obeyed immediately. The doors closed and locked. 

They stared at one another in silence, until he finally spoke. “So it seems that my office is now your office.” He looks around, “You didn’t change a thing.”

She smirks back at him from her position behind the desk. “We have a similar taste, and I don’t have time to decorate. I’ve been quite busy.”

He smiles, “So I hear. How are Judas and Leticia?” It’s been many months since he’s seen them, and she’s been taking care of them, as their Night Mother and as their stepmother.

She smiles back, pleased to exchange good business before the bad. “They’re good. They’re getting quite big, they’ll be one in no time. They both will start walking quite soon.” She doesn’t give more information and he doesn’t press for more.

“Thank you, Zelda. For raising them.” He’s sincere, she can tell. She nods. It’s not as if she had a choice in the matter, but it was what she wanted anyway. She would have raised them no matter what.

His eyes flicker across her face and he’s studying her. “You look…” he pauses, trying to find the right words, “...stunning. High Priestess suits you. Though I assume it’s a lot of work.”

She nods, “It is. I watched you and my brother do it for years, and you didn’t exactly leave us in the best condition. But we are growing stronger every day.” 

He nods, he’s aware of what he’s done. She doesn’t need to explain it to him, or need his apologies. They’d all ring hollow anyway. What’s done is done. Somehow they’ve managed to remain civil this long, despite all of the rage she had felt towards him previously. The months, so many months, have ticked by and she had too many things to juggle to touch more on her anger with him. She was a mother, she had Judas and Leticia to raise; she was a guiding hand for Sabrina, Ambrose, and Prudence. She was a sister. A high priestess. Lilith’s presence on earth. So much that she rarely touched on her role as wife, even though they were very much still married.

“There’s something else,” he says quietly as he looks at her. His eyes searching hers. There’s no fight in her for this. He would know sooner or later. She rises out of the chair, and hears his sharp intake of breath.

She walks around to the front of her desk, and stands before him. There is no hiding when she’s nine months pregnant. 

He’s smiling widely and it’s hard to not smile back. She should know better, after everything. But she had at one point prayed for this baby, and her prayers had been answered. It was a blessing, regardless of Faustus. 

He moves his hand up from the arm of the chair, lets it hover, and then it falls back down. His eyes look up to hers, slightly pleading, and she nods.

She smirks inwardly, oh so he does know consent and has perhaps learned a small lesson. She’s tempted to actually voice her thought but Faustus’s hand on her stomach silences her completely.

The baby kicks against his hand and he grins. She remembers now that Constance had not let him touch her, she doubts he’s felt his child kick before. She takes pity on him, and lets him continue to touch her abdomen. Because she smiles at the baby’s movements too. She is in awe of it, just like he is sitting before her. 

He moves another hand across her stomach, and the baby continues to move against him. He looks up at Zelda, his eyes look slightly teary, “Lupercalia?” 

She nods, it’s her best guess too. She’s thankful the baby was made between the two of them, when they had been on good terms, when they had wanted to build a future together, when they had been engaged, when they had their whole lives to look forward to. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers at her stomach. She’s unsure if he’s speaking to the baby or her, though he has a thousand apologies he should be giving to anyone and everyone within this coven.

Zelda’s eyes, despite her trying to will it away, fill with tears. He has taken so much from her, her family, their family, the coven; and yet he’s given her so much too. He’s the most confusing witch she knows. It’s infuriating. 

Despite herself always, her hands find themselves tangled in his hair, pressing him closer to her, his head laid against her stomach. The baby continuing the move between them. 

She knows he won’t ask, he doesn’t deserve to know, but she had decided before she even saw him. “It’s a boy.”

He smiles when he looks up at her, her smile faltering a little. “Thank you,” he says. 

She can’t stay like this with him. There’s more to get to, and yet she deserves closure in her own way too. She blames her tenderness on her hormones though at this point she thinks she knows better. She clears her throat and moves to sit in the chair next to him. She misses when they used to be here, in playful times, before everything broke apart. But again, she steels herself and reminds herself that he did all of this. 

“Why?” It’s something she’s asked herself a thousand times. Looking for the answer. Why he’s caused so much damage. 

He sighs, “I thought I could make everything better. The Church. The coven. Your family. Me.” He takes a deep breath, “And when I didn’t have you anymore, I realized I had no one. I couldn’t talk to you anymore.”

“Which was your doing,” she interrupts.

“It set me off. I felt like I could still fix things. And then I just wanted to burn it all down.”

She quirks an eyebrow, “You almost did. To all of us.”

He sighs. He schools his face into a mask, as though he had not been sorry, and tearful earlier, “What do you plan to do with me?”

She’s quiet, this wasn’t a moment she would enjoy. Yes, he deserved this but she knew she wouldn’t gain any pleasure in it. 

“It’s now autumn, Faustus.” Indeed it was. The leaves crunched underfoot, the tree limbs were bare, the wind blowed straight through you. It was their season.

He nodded, “Lilith has planned for a last Feast of Feasts.” If he was surprised or scared, he didn’t show it but rather nodded. Either in resignation or agreement. He then laughed a bit.

She looked up at him, “Lilith has never been a big fan of mine,” he says. 

Zelda smirks, “I cannot imagine why,” she says with faux sincerity. 

The coven will be pleased by the news. Or rather, pleased that Faustus has his just desserts.

“Have you figured out why you married me? Despite it all?” He’s trying to look bored and brushes off an invisible piece of lint from his three piece suit. 

She twists her rings on her fingers, she knows the answer. She suspects she always has, but voicing it to him seems harder. Even harder when she came to the realization herself. 

She assumes this will be one of the last times it is the two of them alone. She nods slightly.

“Yes, I know why,” she looks at him, and his eyes are burning into her.

“Grant a dying man a wish, Zelda. Say it.” 

Her eyes swim with tears, emotions, ones like these are impossible for her. Too hard to say. So much so that she doesn’t say them. She can’t. Lust. Power. Those she knows. Those are what she’s comfortable with. Not this.

“I love you, Faustus.” She says it without fanfare. It had been hard enough to get out.

His face doesn’t break into a wide smile at the news, in fact he looks more solemn than ever. He nods.

“I’m sorry I ruined it.”

Her eyes are fiery as a couple of tears fall. “We could have had everything. Had it not been for your actions.” 

He leans towards her and takes her hand in his, “I wish I could do it all over. But it’s happened. I have to live with the consequences. Until the moment I don’t.”

He’s quiet, and she knows they’re both thinking of the ceremony ahead of them.

“When is it?” He asks. 

“Soon,” She huffs out. She motions out the window, the sun is setting.

Her tears finally subsiding sliding with her anger. She’s resigned. She knows he deserves this. She knows she’s angry with him, with what he’s done, with all of it. He was a monster, not just to the coven, but to even her. She knows he’s sorry, most likely for his actions against her only. But it mattered so little in the face of everything. She is the only one who holds anything more for him.

“A break with tradition,” he quips, his eyebrow raised.

“There have been a lot of breaks with tradition,” she smirks back at him. 

He moves and takes off his ring, “Will you keep this for the baby? Will you give it to him?”

She nods, examining the ring in her hands. It’s his family crest. Passed down from generation to generation. He surely has now heard they’re a matriarchal society. All last names given will be that of mothers. Judas and Leticia were born Blackwood but now that Zelda has adopted them, they’re Spellmans. And so will this new baby be. She slips the ring on a finger for safe keeping. It’s warm against her skin. She twirls it around.

“As your High Priestess, it’s my duty to ask you. Do you need anything before the ceremony? A confession? Last rites?”

“You already know everything about me. There’s no need to confess, you know it all. I can only offer how I wish it had played out differently.”

She schools her face, stands, smoothes her dress, and begins to walk away as Faustus grabs her hand. She stops and he looks up at her, “You’re going to be just fine, the children and the coven are in the best of hands.”

She grips his hand a little, closes her eyes and nods. She lets out a breath, “Thank you.”

They both know what’s next. Night has fallen outside, her office brightening only with the fire she threw in the grate. There had been a part of her who wanted his forgiveness in this next step but he had brought this on himself. Despite it all, despite her love for him, it needed to be done. It was just.

She runs her hands over her arms, and she’s suddenly dressed in a long white ceremonial dress with matching cape. Transforming her from black to white in a heartbeat. She turns to Faustus, who by now has been stripped of his magic from Lilith. She runs her hands over his shoulders and arms, his suit melts away and he’s standing in front of her in a crisp black suit, and a white shirt, the collar slightly undone at the throat.

“There were other ways to get me undressed, Zelda.” He’s deadly charming until the end, and she laughs. Thankful for the break in the somber mood. 

“Oh I know, Faustus,” she flirts back at him. Pretending as though they aren’t minutes away from his death.

She holds out her hands, and he places his in hers. He holds them tightly, “Are you allowed to teleport while pregnant?” His face is etched with concern.

She smiles, “Yes.” She’s amused at his concern but she doesn’t tell him she’s acquired more power, and even new powers. Surely he can now feel it running through their joined hands.

In a flash, they’re outside of the church. Everyone has arrived, she can feel it. The congregation is chatting away, blithely unaware of what this evening holds in store.

As she’s about to walk in the private door reserved only the current Priestess, with Faustus in trail, he stops. She turns around in confusion, he’s been compliant the entire time. She guesses she should only be slightly surprised at his resistance now, though he won’t like being on the other side of her.

He smiles as if reading her mind, shakes his head, and guides her back into the side of the church. He pushes himself against her, his body flush with hers, as flush as it can get with the baby between them. His hands cup her face and she’s tempted to resist but she can’t. One last kiss, one last private moment with Faustus. 

She feels like she’s spiraling out of control as his lips hover just over hers, and finally makes contact. It’s soft, unlike Faustus. It feels like an apology. He’s still holding her face between his hands, and his thumb swipes at a tear on her cheek. She hates herself for spilling yet another tear, one in which he doesn’t deserve. She’s so divided. Faustus in front of her now, the Faustus she’s known for decades versus the Faustus in the span of several months. She wishes her heart would have listened to her head, wishes her heart would know better, like her head does.

He’ll be gone soon, she, and everyone else will have their vengeance. For now she’s losing herself in this kiss. 

Faustus moans into her mouth as the kiss becomes more heated. His hands move slowly down her neck, her shoulders, her sides, and places them at her waist. A hand brushes the side of her stomach, and she feels him smile against her lips. 

He pulls away but rests his forehead on hers, after a moment he pulls away. He smiles slightly and moves to brush the edge of her lip with his thumb, a small smudge of blood red lipstick remains on his finger. She waves a hand to fix the both of them. He nods.

And just as she’s about to open the door again, he speaks up. “Some unsolicited advice from one High Priest to another — a swift and sure hand makes it all the easier.”

She nods, and she opens the door, walking side by side. There’s no malice or anger coursing through him. She can feel it. He feels ready, resigned to his fate, but mostly she feels that he’s content — with seeing her again, with knowing Judas and Leticia and Prudence were in good hands, with seeing her pregnant with their child. 

—————

Zelda moves towards the altar, slides the dagger off of it. Faustus has been in her position for years, he’s done this so many times that he knows his role well.

The room is eerily quiet. Despite the fact that they know Zelda is their High Priestess and that she saved them, she can feel their nervous and bated breath as they watch her. Anxious to see if she will, despite it all, go through with killing their former high priest. But more importantly, if Zelda Spellman will sacrifice her husband, and the father of her unborn baby.

Zelda, despite her earlier emotions, was now completely stone faced and solemn, what the occasion called for. Her many years of practice of being a stone cold bitch worked in her favor. She had feelings, of course she did, but her mask was in place. She was steeped in multitudes. She would mourn Faustus. She would also murder him. She would bury his skeleton in the family graveyard. In a grave she would dig herself. She would keep his heart in a jar in her office. She would miss him. She would say and believe he deserved it. All of these things are true. She’s made enough room in the months that had passed that she allowed herself all of these beliefs. 

She whispers a spell over the dagger, and hands it to Faustus. She unbuttons his shirt and opens it enough for a clear path to his heart. Her face only momentarily slips when she spies a filagreed “Z” over his heart. No one save for her is close enough to see it, it’s almost as if it’s a bullseye. No one save for him sees her face momentarily crunch in confusion and then understanding before her mask is back in place. 

She whispers the ancient spell over his heart, and her hand takes the blade from his. He’s calm.

She looks at him, and he gives an almost imperceptible nod. Her eyes train on her initial over his heart and her movement is swift. The dagger sinks directly into the Z, into his heart. 

He makes almost no noise, except loud breaths of air, and he collapses a little into her. He slides down her front and is kneeling before her for a moment before he slips to the floor entirely. A large pool of hot, deep red blood falls around him, and she leans over him. She knows these are his last breaths. His eyes are sparkling and if he could smile through the pain, he would. She sees it. His last breaths are spent on an, “I love you.” Her eyes glint back at his in the low light. It’s the only way she can say it back to him now. She knows that he knows.

And then he’s gone. 

Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! Many thanks to everyone who has read and stuck with this story. Especially those who have left comments, as that’s what has kept me going in this rough to write story. Xx
> 
> If you’re looking for happier Zelda and Faustus, try Another Year. OR send me a prompt on my Tumblr, SpellwoodManor

**Author's Note:**

> I’ll continue to update this story AND Hellsend. Please send me any requests to SpellwoodManor on Tumblr for Hellsend. Xx


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